


embrace

by ndnickerson



Series: Nancy Drew - Star Trek AU [2]
Category: Nancy Drew - Carolyn Keene, Star Trek
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Star Trek Fusion, Betazoid, Bonding, Camping, Canon Het Relationship, Childbirth, Christmas, Earth, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Family, Family Drama, Fingerfucking, Homecoming, Married Couple, Married Sex, Meeting the Parents, Mind Meld, Miscarriage, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Pregnancy, Reconciliation, Reunions, Risky Pregnancy, Starfleet, Vulcan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2014-03-08
Packaged: 2018-01-05 19:28:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 37,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1097743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ndnickerson/pseuds/ndnickerson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for Nancy Drew Yuletide 2013. While settling into their life together, Lieutenant Commander Nancy Drew invites her husband home to meet her family on Earth. (Prompt: Nancy brings Ned home to meet Carson for the first time.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I just couldn't get this out of my head; hope you enjoy it.

Ship's night had fallen. The third shift had entered the shuttlebay to take over the work, and Ned's concentration was just beginning to falter. He had been working for eighty hours straight on an equation that was crucial to the proper function of the device, and every element of it needed to be perfect. Once it was prepared, running it through the computer's virtual creation would tell him if it would work as intended.

Lieutenant Nguyen approached him with a padd, her dark eyes taking in his progress with a long, thorough glance. "I'll take it to the simulator," she told him. "Unless you already have."

Ned shook his head. He was holding himself in such perfect control that his exhaustion wasn't enough to cause even a small tremor in his hands. Exercising his restraint so strenuously didn't give him a sense of pleasure or pride, just an assurance that he was completing his assignment as expediently as possible. "I have not. The computer will need at least four-point-two hours to integrate the equation into our current programming. In the event that I am unavailable for the next iteration—"

"I'll handle it," the lieutenant told him with a smile. "Get some rest."

As he watched the lieutenant cross the shuttlebay toward another cluster of crewmen, Ned's attention turned inward. He could endure for another three days if absolutely necessary, but his body's systems were already beginning to slow to a near-hibernation pace. He held a brief conference with the chief engineer, then headed to his quarters.

The ship's mess hall would be crowded with officers and crewmen just having left their shifts, many of them with glasses of synthehol. He had no desire to engage in any social pleasantries, and as soon as he reached his room, Ned changed into a ceremonial robe. The absolute silence and peace of his quarters after so many days spent in non-solitary conditions was welcome.

A personal communique had come in while he had been working, but as it wasn't flagged with any priority, Ned had left it until he had time to devote his attention to it. He instructed the replicator to prepare stir-fried vegetables with rice, and brought the meal over to his table along with his padd.

The communique was from his wife. Her investigation had completed just behind schedule, and she was en route, expecting to see him at eleven-hundred.

In just over eleven hours, he would see her again. Ned noted the time, outwardly impassive.

His wife.

For the majority of their marriage, Ned hadn't experienced an emotion close to anticipation when thinking of T'Pav, his first wife. Their betrothal had been arranged in their childhood and T'Pav had been an ideal mate. Their relationship had served their needs and satisfied them both. She had acknowledged that his career in Starfleet was just as important as her own work, and their long separations had been a relief to both of them. She was solitary and so was he.

Nancy, though. Tomorrow he would see her for the third time since they had agreed to make theirs a real marriage instead of dissolving it.

The difference between his first wife and his second could hardly be more pronounced. Nancy spoke in approximations; she spoke with her hands, with her eyes, with emotion coloring her voice. Those she loved she loved fiercely, and her sense of duty and honor was unflinching—and that wasn't so unlike T'Pav, or unlike Ned, for that matter. Her blue eyes were often dancing, often telling him precisely what she was thinking, and when they were alone she was quick to tease him, to laugh, usually when he couldn't. Her personality swelled to fill the space sometimes, but she allowed him the silence he needed too. When they were in public, they touched only briefly, only lightly; when they were alone in his quarters, especially in bed together, she was perpetually in contact with him. She usually couldn't sense his thoughts unless they were in direct contact, and so he didn't dissuade her as strongly as he could have.

And he loved her. He had felt respect and a certain vague fondness for T'Pav, who had done all she could to suppress and purge all her emotions, who seemed to endure the trials of their marriage. Ned loved Nancy with an illogical strength, so fully that he found it discomfiting, so much that his first impulse was always to suppress it himself. But she wouldn't let him, and when they were connected, when their minds were melded and he could hide none of who he was from her, she basked in his love. The man he had been in their first meeting was the man she had fallen in love with, and when he was with her, she gave him permission to be that person again.

It was terrifying. His behavior while under the influence of _pon farr_ , particularly toward her, had been profoundly inappropriate. Even now, most likely from some sense of self-preservation, his memories of the worst of it were hazy, but he remembered begging her, pleading with her, promising her anything if she would only be his. He had burned so hotly with desire for her that even now it felt like it had happened to someone else.

Or it would—but just the sight of her, proximity to her and feeling her desire for him just fed his own attraction to her.

He had gone through every iteration, ascribing their relationship to biological imperative, how aesthetically symmetrical she was and the strength of her personality, but when it came to her there were no formulas, no equations, no logical explanations. He anticipated seeing her again, but that wasn't all of it. He was no youth in his first _pon farr_ , but the way he felt about her was just as strong.

Meditation came easily to him that night, and his sleep was dreamless. When he woke the following morning he was fully rested, and he took a few moments to visually inspect his quarters, the quarters he would soon be sharing with his wife again. The set of storage drawers he had designated as hers held only a few belongings, including the floral printed dress she had been wearing when she had come to him on the _Banner_ and asked him to reconsider their divorce. Although it had been laundered, the faint scent of her still seemed to cling to it. On opening the drawer, even without touching it, he could still sense her there, the smooth mild warmth of her skin beneath the fabric.

Silk. She liked silk.

Before dressing and leaving his quarters, Ned requested a silk throw for the bed from ship's stores and was assured that it would be delivered before Nancy's arrival.

 _Banner'_ s recreational facilities were adequate for his purposes, so Ned headed there after breakfast. The executive officer of the ship was there, along with a few other crew members taking advantage of their own down-time. The first officer smiled when he saw Ned.

"Good morning, Lieutenant Commander."

Ned inclined his head, crossing to the weights. Michael O'Shea was a Terran with dark hair, an easy smile, and a competitive spirit. Ned found his challenges diverting enough when he needed to focus on other problems for a while, but he and the Earthling weren't equally matched physically. Thankfully, O'Shea wasn't a sore loser.

Mike crossed to him. "I saw on the ship's schedule that you have a visitor coming in today," he commented, as Ned lowered himself to position on the bench. "Think you two might leave quarters long enough for me to meet her this time?"

Nancy would have invited a teasing response, but Mike wasn't Nancy. "My wife and I spent several hours elsewhere on the ship during her last visit," he informed his commanding officer. "I will make sure that you make her acquaintance on this visit."

"I can hardly wait," Mike said with a smile.

Nancy was attracted to Ned's muscular physique, and he knew that; if anyone had asked, he would have pointed out the metabolic and neurological benefits of vigorous physical exercise. If anyone had asked why Ned spent a full thirty minutes meditating in his cabin after his shower and before his wife's arrival, he would have come up with a logical explanation for it as well.

If he had been anyone else, he would have called it anticipation, almost unbearable in its intensity. If he had been anyone else, he would have said that his skin craved the touch of hers, that he could have done without oxygen or food or water more easily than he could have gone another day without her presence. But he was himself, and when he reported to the transporter room at precisely ten-fifty-nine, he was impassive and stoic as ever.

The transporter chief was on duty, and glanced up when Ned walked in. She looked down at the controls, then back at him. "They're ready."

Ned gave her a brief nod, his hands clasped behind his back.

The familiar shimmering of the transporter effect coalesced into the form of his wife, the metal case holding her personal belongings by her side. Immediately a wide grin turned her lips up, and she fairly skipped off the transporter pad, but she didn't throw her arms around him the way she wanted. Instead she stopped in front of him and held up two fingers at waist-level, her gaze locked to his.

"Welcome," Ned told her, touching two fingers to hers.

She gave him a small nod, then briefly bent her fingers, gently clasping his and then releasing them. If they had been near any other Vulcans, that intimacy would have been almost vulgar. "I have missed you," she told him softly, her eyes bright. "I'm so glad to see you again."

Her reddish-gold hair was longer than it had been before, gleaming and tumbling free to the shoulders of her civilian outfit, a cream-colored long-sleeved tunic and soft black pants. She fell into step beside him as they walked to his quarters so she could leave her case there. He inquired about her most recent investigation, and she inquired about the progress of their work on the device.

As soon as the doors closed behind them and they were alone in his quarters, Nancy put her case down, then turned to him. "Ned," she whispered.

He turned to her and she stood on her tiptoes to wrap her arms around his shoulders, and he bent to wrap his arms around her waist and draw her up to him. She kissed him immediately.

Kissing, to her, was an important part of intimacy. She was the only person he had ever kissed, and it still felt unnecessary and needlessly messy to him, but he knew that touching his _katra_ points was the same kind of gesture to her, one she did only because he desired it. She slipped her tongue into his mouth, and a part of him saw his almost-immediate arousal as a sign of weakness, but it was undeniable.

_Couch._

Obediently he walked over to the couch with her, and she wrapped her legs around him, breaking the kiss to nuzzle against his cheek. "I love you so much," she gasped.

_I love you._

Because they had melded many times, he was able to project his thoughts to her while they were merely in contact, and she was able to hear them. She sighed in response, running her fingers through his hair, caressing his cheek. She pressed a soft kiss against his lips, his chin, the point of his jaw.

Then she leaned back, looking into his eyes with a soft smile on her face. "I suppose it would be improper for us to—reacquaint ourselves with each other," she murmured. "Right now, anyway."

"My commanding officer expressed an interest in making your acquaintance," Ned told her. His arms were still wrapped around her waist, and her mood would be negatively influenced were he to remove them, so he left them there.

Whenever she was in his arms, in contact with him, he felt a faint illogical impulse to warm her. Her skin wasn't significantly cooler than his own, but the impulse to cradle her close to him persisted.

"Lunch, then?"

"If it proves expedient."

She reached up and touched him again, her fingertips trailing from his temple down to the point of his jaw, her thumb brushing his cheekbone. She was well aware that the sensation was extraordinary for him where she found it chaste and timid, and Ned had to overcome his own reluctance to touch her the same way.

But she sighed and nuzzled against his hand when he cupped her cheek, gently stroking her own cheekbone, the smooth softness of her lips. She kissed the pad of his thumb, then ran the tip of her tongue against it.

She was aroused, and he had not been with her for six weeks. Compared to the years he had gone without seeing T'Pav, six weeks were nominal. The difference, though, was in what her absence took from him. Reunions with T'Pav had existed to sate biological impulses and occasionally to fulfill traditional or legal obligations, nothing more. But Nancy... they had promised each other an end to the loneliness that they felt. He had neither desired nor resented those visits to Vulcan to see his mate during their marriage. And Ned would never have admitted to anyone else how parting from Nancy made him miss her intensely. They kept in regular contact when possible, and Nancy told him whatever was on her mind; Ned responded with a short accounting of his day, his observations, and always the same closing, that he anticipated their next meeting.

To be desired by her, to desire her in return; to relinquish that perfect, total control and let himself feel. She was gazing at his lips, and he let himself be drawn to her, felt her lips part beneath his as he kissed her.

He wanted her and she was his, bound to him just as he was to her. And for a while he had tried to put her and this out of his mind and out of his heart.

_Take me to bed, love._

She was sensual, twisting under his touch; a flush bloomed in her cheeks and he knew no logic in his reaction to her, only visceral need so overwhelming that he feared it, just not quite so much as he craved her.

She was his weakness, and he was her strength.

_After our meal._

She sighed and kissed the corner of his mouth, then ran her thumb over his lips. He kissed her there, just as she had kissed him, and she smiled.

 _After our meal,_ she agreed, and he felt her disappointment as keenly as his own.

She smoothed his mussed hair and then climbed off him with a sigh, glancing around as she tugged her tunic down. When she walked over to the bed they would share, he thought she had changed her mind, but she had been drawn to the new blanket on his bed. She ran her fingertips over it, then turned to him with a smile.

"It's beautiful," she murmured. "It's new?"

"Yes."

Her smile widened into a grin. "For me?"

"I thought you might find it—pleasing."

She returned to him, standing on her tiptoes and drawing him down to her to give him a kiss. "You really are a romantic, Ned," she murmured against his lips. "Thank you, love. It means a lot to me."

She clasped his hand fully with hers until they exited his quarters. Then she limited the contact to her two fingers against his. Ned knew that no other Vulcans were on board, and few crew members would take note if he and his wife were walking through the ship hand in hand, but it was improper and he would be teased about it.

Granted, he allowed himself with a glance at her, it wasn't as though his marriage to her had gone without comment. Outside the small number of people who knew the circumstances of their wedding, anyone else thought theirs a "whirlwind" courtship and an unusual relationship.

She had been true to her word, though. She knew what Ned felt was appropriate, and she behaved that way in public because doing otherwise would embarrass him. Touching their index and middle fingers together was a sign of affection, and a compromise for her because she wanted to be in contact with him. When they were alone, she didn't bother hiding the way she was feeling.

In his middle age, he had fallen in love like an adolescent, and so had she. When she was with him, she found it difficult to gaze anywhere else, to interact with anyone else.

He had been alone. Now she was with him. Nothing felt quite the same way as it had before. He had wanted peace without the pain of total solitude, and with her he often, paradoxically, was able to find it. She took everything he wasn't able to express and gave him the freedom to do so, with her.

The mess hall offered a variety of dishes made from fresh and replicated ingredients, thanks to their proximity to Federation trade lanes and the starbase. Despite the usual limitations of his vegetarian diet, the variety available meant he wasn't limited to two or three dishes. Nancy selected a few dishes she had never tried before, and they found a table.

Commander O'Shea entered a few minutes later, and Ned saw him stop and exchange a few words with Lieutenant Teller before he headed in their direction. Even though Nancy wasn't in physical contact with Ned, she picked up on the drift of Ned's thoughts, then glanced over to see O'Shea approaching.

"So your visitor has arrived, I'm happy to see," the commander said with a smile. "Welcome to the _Banner_."

"Thank you," Nancy said with a smile, shaking his proffered hand. "Lieutenant Commander Nancy Drew."

"Commander Michael O'Shea."

"Would you care to join us, Commander?"

Ned raised an eyebrow a fraction of an inch, unwilling to give O'Shea the satisfaction of showing some surprise. With a glance at Ned, O'Shea took a seat at the table.

"I'm sure the story of how you two met is entirely fascinating," Mike began, glancing between them as he picked up a roll. "I'd love to hear it."

"It really isn't," Nancy said, then gave him a smile. "We met when I was investigating the loss of the _Scovill_. It was a difficult case."

O'Shea sobered at the reminder. He checked in with the project and its coordinators every few days so he could keep the captain up to date on their progress, and he had studied the surviving logs and schematics from the _Scovill_ in great detail. Ned had found his caution prudent. "I'm sure it was difficult," O'Shea said. "You'll be here for five days, Lieutenant Commander?"

Nancy nodded, swallowing a bite of roasted meat. "That's the plan. My assignments can be a little unpredictable, though."

Ned could tell that she had something on her mind, something she wished to discuss with him, but she waited until the end of the day. Ned had to report back to the project shift leader to check on the progress, and he found that his equation had worked during simulations. They were working on outfitting a shuttlecraft with the device, though, so the first few trial runs wouldn't put the ship in danger of _Scovill'_ s fate. Then he and Nancy had dinner together, again in the mess hall. During his most recent work on the project, Ned had been entirely isolated, and he knew that could cause tension among the mostly-Terran crew. Anti-social behavior, even for a Vulcan, resulted in concerned messages and visits from crew members, and Ned wished to avoid that.

They returned to his quarters, and Nancy excused herself, then returned to him wearing a short silky garment trimmed in lace. Ned found it no less alluring than any other garment she wore, because his attraction was to the woman beneath; still, her behavior was different when she was attired that way. She equated it with seduction, with giving him a visual cue to her desire for him, and he treated it as such.

He had learned much of the social intricacies expected by humans during his time at the Academy, but melding with her had keyed him to her behavior, and that was much more helpful. She desired tenderness and intimacy, and passion and love. She was constantly reminding herself that he wasn't human, that her other relationships couldn't prepare her for her marriage to him, but underneath, when they were connected, none of that seemed to matter anymore. In the meld they hid nothing from each other, even anything he was reticent to say aloud.

"My wife," Ned murmured.

She gave him a slow smile, her gaze locked to his as she crawled toward him on the bed. "I've missed you so much," she told him. "I love you, Ned."

He reached up and touched her cheek. _I love you._

She moved the covers down and straddled his lap, moving forward to kiss his _katra_ points, and Ned closed his eyes. As impassive as he tried to keep himself, the gesture for him was more than just symbolic. The _katra_ was a Vulcan's consciousness and rational being; the closest approximation in her language was _soul_. To meld was to join one's _katra_ to another's, and the intimacy of that touch with one he loved was very intense.

He had melded to T'Pav when they had come together, but it had felt nothing like this.

Nancy kissed his lips softly. _Ned?_

_Yes?_

_I looked at your service record, and your birthday is soon._

Birthday. Humans celebrated every year after their births. One year his roommate at the Academy and a few of his friends, Ned's acquaintances, had taken him out for a drink to celebrate. He had observed the entire ceremony feeling almost bemused; it was an important part of human culture, and from an anthropological standpoint it was interesting, but recognition of the day of his birth was inconsequential. Recognition of achievement of a goal was much more impressive, for him, but Ned still couldn't imagine that involving the imbibing of alcohol until all present were well past the point of intoxication. He himself had abstained, even after much pleading from his fellow cadets. Any substance that could impede his thinking or coordination was best done only when necessary, and in solitary conditions.

But, to Nancy... he called her memories to him, from all their bonding. She had celebrated birthdays that way, but for her, the time was fondly remembered as time with family and friends. She had not enjoyed being the center of attention, but the fondness and jubilance of her loved ones had pleased her, and she would want him to have that same experience.

_Do you have plans, for it?_

Ned brushed his thumb against her lips. _Generally we do not celebrate them as humans do._

_But this is an important one for you, isn't it?_

Ned considered. _I will be seventy years of age. Traditionally I could choose to commemorate my naming day._

_And that commemoration—_

_Would be spent in solitude and meditation, in the place of my birth._ Ned felt a brief tightening in his stomach.

_With your family. Or near them, even if you spend the day alone._

_I have no intention of traveling to Vulcan. I do not wish to spend time with anyone else. If you wish and are with me at the time, I will—I would have a small commemoration with you. Perhaps a few other crew members, if you desire it to be a social occasion._

Nancy gazed into his eyes for a moment, and then her own began to gleam with tears. "Ned..."

Ned silently drew a deep breath. _I do not wish to upset you._

A pair of tears slipped down her cheeks, and Ned brushed them away with the pads of his thumbs, a small frown on his face. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

_I knew it was possible. The decision was mine to make and the consequences are also mine. Please don't let it distress you._

She hadn't known, and Ned hadn't wanted to disturb her with the knowledge. But now she did.

Ned's parents and other relatives had looked on his decision to attend Starfleet Academy as illogical and less than meeting his potential. He could have attended the Science Academy on Vulcan and excelled, but his decision had caused a rift between him and his family. They had hoped that his marriage to T'Pav meant he would reconcile to his heritage and leave Starfleet for a more logical use of his talents, but that hadn't happened.

Then he had married Nancy; as their union had been under the influence of his _pon farr_ , it had been an excusable, if tremendous, mistake. But he hadn't taken back that mistake, and now he was actively pursuing a relationship with a human. He had taken her as his mate when he was of sound mind, no longer under the intoxication of the blood fever, when logically he should have rejected her. His family's response had been unanimous, he had found out a month ago. They would reconcile to him only once he returned to reason, atoned for his mistake and divorced his human mate.

_Nancy..._

"That's why you—you thought we should divorce," she murmured, still gazing into his eyes, and that intimacy was staggering in itself, even above their contact. "Not just because you were afraid... oh, Ned, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. You wanted them to love you and understand and be happy for you and they couldn't—"

"Please," he whispered, searching her eyes. "Please, Nancy."

But it poured out of her, everything he couldn't let himself speak or even think. "You just want them to be proud of you. And it hurt you so much when they didn't even want to see you again, when they didn't even try to understand. Not even—not even your mother."

Though Nancy had lost her mother at a young age, she believed that her mother would have been proud of her career and the life she had made for herself; Ned knew that. He believed she was right. Her father had accepted her career choice, and he was proud of her even though he was also worried for her safety.

Ned knew the cold logic of it, but either way would end in emotional pain. Cut off the woman he had fallen in love with, or be estranged from his family.

His heritage was deeply important to him, but his future, particularly his future with her, was more important. He had committed to Nancy and she to him, and he had spent more time in Starfleet than he had lived on Vulcan by a wide margin. He had built his home and Nancy had become a part of it.

And so, despite the heat behind it, the cold logic was sound. The cost of losing his wife would be greater, and so his choice had been clear. That hadn't stopped it from impacting him, though.

Nancy wrapped her arms around him and held him, stroking his hair, and Ned closed his eyes as he embraced her in return, letting himself mourn for what he had lost, for what his choices had cost him. They would have seen it as weakness; everything about her was weakness, loss of control. But she _lived_ , and let herself feel for him—he felt infinitely grateful, for that.

"I love you," she whispered against his neck. "Ned, I love you. I love all of you, especially that part of yourself that you've let me see and fall in love with. I'm proud of you and everything you are. Please, don't ever feel like less just because someone else thinks your happiness isn't important or worth pursuing. It's not imperfect or lesser, Ned. You're incredible. And I love you so much."

_I love you. My wife._

She sniffled, then pulled back to look into his eyes. "I... well, I would have gone to your home with you," she told him. "If you wanted to do that. But I haven't been back home, to Earth, in a while, and my father said he wanted to see me. I... If you wouldn't... Do you want to come home with me and meet my family?"

He felt that tightness low in his abdomen again, but he inclined his head. "I will."

Her cheeks were shining with tears, but she smiled at him. "We can celebrate your birthday, or your naming day, too," she told him. "It's Christmas..."

Christmas. He had become aware of the holiday while at the Academy, but for Nancy, it was important.

"There's something else," he murmured, and raised an eyebrow.

Nancy looked down. "He's married again," she said softly. "I wasn't able to make it to the ceremony. But part of going home will be seeing him with his new wife in person. My new stepmother." She sighed.

"And you're anxious."

She nodded. "They've been friends for a while, and he's very happy with her, but I just... I'm sad. I knew he might get married again, and I knew that he would be lonely once I left home. Knowing wasn't the same as reality, though."

He brushed his thumb over her lips once she trailed off.

Then she smiled again. "But I suppose we're even," she said. "I didn't see his marriage, and he didn't see mine. Now we both have spouses to bring to our holiday celebration. Are you sure, Ned? I'll understand..."

"No, you wouldn't," he corrected her quietly. "Your feelings would be hurt. And even though you harbor conflicting emotions over our initial meeting, you feel defiant over it. You would confront anyone who questioned our marriage. Possibly because you felt so conflicted about it for a time."

Nancy's lower lip trembled. "I suppose I deserved that," she murmured, and stroked his cheek.

He tilted his head. "It is the truth," he said. "Is it not?"

She nodded once, slowly. "It is," she said softly. "But you're right. I would go after anyone who told me that our marriage was a mistake. That wasn't something you felt you could do, though. Not when it came to your family."

He shook his head. "Regardless of what they believe, Starfleet is my best destiny," he said. "Circumstances aside, I believe that our initial meeting and what followed were not happenstance. I would have survived my _pon farr_ through intense meditation, but you came to me. Because you feared for me. It is a metaphor for what we are, you and I."

"And what are we?" She stroked his cheek.

"I believe we were destined, Nancy Drew."

She smiled at him. "As do I, Ned."

Then she kissed his _katra_ points again, this time more slowly, and Ned combed his fingers through her hair, feeling the silk and warmth of her. Her thighs were open, the join of hers pressed against his hips, and he had no need to dread their melding now. She already knew what he had feared to share with her.

He allowed her a slow open-mouthed kiss, then brushed his lips against her jawline, nuzzling against her. She guided his hands down to the hem of her gown, then raised her arms, and Ned slowly stripped it off her. She dropped her gaze, then raised it to his face again; for a moment he was transfixed by her, the fragile breathing weight of her, the curve of her cheek, the wet black of her eyelashes. He didn't let his gaze rest long on most faces—staring at humans discomfited them, and with one glance he could memorize any face—but every time he looked at her, he never wanted to stop.

"What is it?" she said softly.

"Your eyes," he replied, his voice low.

She smiled. "And what about my eyes, Ned?"

"I was just considering the color," he murmured. "That precise frequency on the visible light spectrum, how they change in dimness or starlight."

She touched his cheek, that small smile still curving her lips up. Her pulse rate had increased; he could feel that slow, steady beat of her heart gain speed beneath her pale skin.

_Is this how a Vulcan writes love poetry?_

"I suppose it is," he murmured, studying her lips before lifting his gaze again. "For humans the color is calming, I am told."

"Do you find it calming?"

Ned shook his head. "I am the opposite of calm when I look at you," he murmured. "You have seen me at my worst, my wife, and you have embraced it. You have seen all the way to the heart of me and you don't wish me to hide. But there is a serenity in that." He swallowed. "You are my fever and my cure."

Her eyes were shimmering when she leaned forward and kissed him again, her bare breasts against his chest. "And you are mine," she whispered against his lips. "I love you so much."

He returned her kiss, then reclined with her, stroking and caressing her, nuzzling against her breasts and down to her belly. Being able to have intercourse with her so often, knowing that they both desired it, still felt like an incredible luxury, and while foreplay had been new to him, he had found that it was pleasurable. The sensation of touch served to arouse her, and witnessing it aroused him in return.

She sighed when he nuzzled against the skin just above the band of her panties, and her breathing, the tiny shudderings, told him her response. He dipped his tongue into the hollows of her hipbones, nipped at her inner thighs and felt her quiver in response. She wished for him to take her as he did when he was dominant, when he let himself remember and experience the terrible desire of his _pon farr_ again. She hadn't understood then that he had drawn the experience out not only because she had desired it, but also because he had thought it would be the only night they would share.

For most of his life, the coupling during his fever had been the only sexual encounter he would have for a period of years. Saying he anticipated and desired it wouldn't have been proper or acceptable, but when it came to Nancy, they were the only true words.

She wrapped her legs around him when Ned moved over her. They were still in their undergarments, but her cheeks were flushed. She cupped his cheek, gazing into his eyes. _I see such passion and desire in your eyes,_ she projected to him. _Do I see it there because my own heart is reflected there? We are not yet one, and yet I burn for you, my husband._

Ned lowered himself deliberately so his erect cock rubbed against her through their clothes, and she shivered. _I wish to be one with you, my wife,_ he projected to her. _In every sense._

_To end the loneliness._

_To end the loneliness,_ he agreed, and she gave him a small sympathetic smile. It was against his nature to accept pity, but she wished that circumstances had been different. He could not change what his relatives thought, or what had happened, and he didn't expend needless energy on wishing things different.

Nevertheless, he knew. Without her, without his acquaintances on the ship, he would be alone, as lost as he had felt in those first hours after the _Scovill'_ s destruction. Alone, fighting illogical waves of guilt and culpability, knowing that nothing would change the past.

He could only influence the future and who he would become, and with her, he was no longer entirely sure what that would bring. The uncertainty was terrifying and exhilarating.

He brought his hand to her face, and he saw her eyes widen slightly when he moved his fingertips to her _katra_ points. She moved to do the same, and Ned's hips gave a small jolt against hers as she touched him. The bonding, the melding, and the act of sexual intercourse had become entwined for him, and feeling her fingertips brush his cheek that way was the only foreplay he needed.

Before he spoke the words that would draw them together, he glanced up. "Computer, increase sound dampening to full capacity."

When he glanced back down at her, she was smiling, but her heart was still beating faster. Melding wasn't a skill he had used terribly often, and he knew that biologically they could engage in intercourse without it, but it helped him understand and anticipate her desires, and it was an act of intimacy. In copulation, they were vulnerable to each other; in the melding, the only boundary left was their skin.

"My mind to your mind," he murmured, his voice low. "My thoughts to your thoughts."

Nancy gasped in a breath, her eyes shimmering as they joined, as everything between them crashed down. The wonder of her love suffused him, and he knew her heart. She had not lied. She felt guilty that their relationship had caused a rift between him and his family. And how she ached for him. If she could have had her own mother back, even for a brief time, she would have done anything she could to be with her and make their time together pleasant. She feared that Ned would grow to regret his decision, and that he would be right to reject her in favor of his family.

And she would lose him. The terror of it colored her thoughts, bitter as ink.

 _No,_ he told her. _No, love. Never. I will never let you go._

Her lips parted and she released a soft whimper, looping her arm around him and drawing him down to her. She kissed him, stroking his cheek, her body arching up under his. Oh, how she desired him. And how he felt it in return, tenfold, a hundredfold.

He took her silk underwear in his hand and ripped it away, and she gasped against his lips, then parted her legs even wider. She was more aroused by his impatience, her tongue slipping into his mouth to stroke against his own.

_Come to me. Inside me, love, where I'm tender and slick for you, fill me up and join with me until the pleasure is too much for either of us to bear. Fuck me._

The connotation was vulgar, but apt; he felt feverish himself as he sensed what she wanted, what she needed from him. She gently bit his lower lip, then fell back a little, her eyes still gleaming.

"Fuck me," she breathed, her voice a low moan. "Please, love."

Once their connection had been established, he no longer needed to keep his fingertips pressed against her _katra_ points, so he reached down with both hands and pushed his own underwear down, and she nipped at his lower lip again. Were he to forget himself, to fully lose control—he could severely hurt her, entirely unintentionally.

He gently caught her lower lip in his mouth and sucked it lightly, then nuzzled and kissed his way down her neck, his hips beginning to rock against hers. She moaned in anticipation, and when he nipped at the other side of her neck, her shoulder, she dug her fingernails against his shoulder blade, digging her heels into the small of his back to force him closer, to encourage him to enter her.

Her nipples were pebbled hard. He arched to suckle at her breast and she panted, drawing her fingers through his hair, rocking impatiently.

_If you wish it..._

_I—_

He moved, the head of his sex finding the entrance of her own as he guided himself to her, and she was slick and welcoming. She cried out as he drove into her, and she was wet and tight and yielding, quivering and tender.

Then he began to rub her clit, and she gasped, bucking under him, tipping her head back. "Oh God, oh _God_ ," she moaned, angling her hips to allow him deeper penetration, and he paused at the apex of his next thrust, savoring the feel of her as she tightened and relaxed against his girth, the pained pleasure that left her sobbing. She was self-conscious about all the noise she made during intercourse, but his silence didn't mean he enjoyed it any less, and hearing her scream with pleasure as he worked inside her was an intoxicating sensation.

_Focus. Nancy..._

She forced her chin down so she could look into his eyes. His control was much better than hers in this, and he slowed down, letting her savor each sensation, helping her keep tight rein on her arousal. He kissed her once, then again, his thumb working slowly against her clit.

She let out a sigh, tilting her hips again. "Yes," she whispered, her next gasp against his lips.

_Touch yourself._

She snaked her hand between them and began to slowly stroke her clit with her fingertips as he propped himself up with both hands and lengthened his thrusts. She was quivering, gasping at the pleasure of it, rocking her hips in rhythm with his thrusts. Then her gasps became cries, her cries became groans, and she began to jerk against him.

Then he released his hold on her control, letting her feel it all again, suddenly, and she screamed. She threw her head back and her sex, slick and tender around him, pulsed as she reached her release. After a few last rapid strokes of her fingers against her clit, her hand fell to the side and she arched underneath him, releasing a hoarse, broken cry. "Ned," she sobbed, her eyes rolling back at the pleasure as he kept thrusting inside her.

Then he parted her legs wide as he could, the full length of his cock motionless inside her, penetrating her fully as he touched her clit, glancing light at first. She jerked, gasping, and he touched her breast with his other hand, stroking her nipple with the same slow rhythm. Her entire body was still deliciously sensitized, and he had her pinned so tight under him that when she cupped her other breast, stroking her nipple too, the delighted gasp she released turned into a moan almost immediately. She squirmed her hips, and when he dug his thumb suddenly against her clit, rapidly stroking it with almost brutal swipes, she thrashed under him; he felt another wave of her body's natural lubrication against his cock, encouraging him to thrust again.

Instead he stroked her clit until she was at the point of orgasm again, her face flushed, her moans desperate. She pinched her nipple between forefinger and thumb and he did too, and she tipped her head back until the crown was against his pillow, releasing low gasping moans that were building into hoarse, pleading cries.

He slid out of her, and she whimpered, confused; he hadn't yet reached his own orgasm. Her legs were still wide apart, and he plunged three long fingers into her sex, rubbing the ball of his thumb against her clit, nuzzling against her breast before he pulled her nipple into his mouth. He used his other hand to stroke her other nipple with the same rhythm.

She sobbed, writhing, drawing her heels toward her and supporting her weight as she thrust her hips in time with the rhythm of his fingers. He nipped at her breast harder, using his teeth; his fingers were dripping wet with her arousal, her sex pulsing and clenching around him, and her next broken cry turned into a shrill scream. She thrust her hips faster, and he felt her nails rake against his back.

Once her arousal peaked, he kept his fingers inside her, feeling the weak clench the aftershocks as her sex pulsed around him. He kissed his way down her belly, tasting her sweat; he circled her navel with his tongue, and she began panting faster in anticipation of what he was about to do.

He sucked her clit into his mouth and teased it with his tongue and teeth as he began to thrust his fingers in and out of her again, and she parted her legs wide as she could. The scent of her was musky from her arousal, and her hips trembled under him. He heard her gasp and sob again, plucking at her breast with one hand as she cupped his head with the other, her fingers threading through his hair. He gently nipped at her and she quivered, panting loudly.

"Come," she sobbed. "Please, please come..."

He kept suckling at her clit, alternating between gentle and harder pressure, slow and rapid strokes of his tongue, and Nancy arched under him, reaching her orgasm slowly. Her sobbed cries became low desperate groans, and then she screamed when he gently bit her again. Her hips rotated, her entire body contracting and pulsing against him as she came again.

He caressed and stroked her through it, and when he pulled back, she was trembling, her legs sprawled wide, her face wet with recent tears. He was still hard, and oh she would be so tender and wet against him...

But she was oversensitized, and so Ned moved beside her on the bed and drew her to him. She was gasping, quiveringly sensitive from her aftershocks, and she moaned as she relaxed against him. Her skin was warmer now, but he still felt that absurd impulse to warm her by holding her close. "Ned," she sighed, and reached between them, palming his erect cock. Ned closed his eyes, letting his fingertips drift down to her hip as she began to stroke him, and she quivered wherever he touched her.

"You need it," she whispered, tracing her fingertips down the underside of his cock, down to his balls, and he tensed as she palmed them. He grasped her ass firmly, his lips parting, and Nancy tilted her head back to kiss him.

"You need it," she repeated again, as she broke the kiss. "To have release. To spend your seed inside me, where I'm wet and tight and ready for you. And I need it too, love. I need you. We have all night." She kissed him again, then whispered against his mouth, "So fuck me, love."

He gave her a few long, lingering kisses before he sat up, urging her up with him too, and she gazed at him curiously. Then he grasped her hips, maneuvering her so she was seated with her back against the headboard, lifting her. He stood on his knees and she sighed with understanding, opening her legs to him again.

He moved inside her, pinning her against the headboard as he fully penetrated her, and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, gazing up at him. She was able to support her weight on her heels, to rock her hips against his thrusts, and she was so slick and relaxed from the depth of her previous release that his thrusts were easy.

Then she tightened against him, her shoulders jerking. "Oh," she moaned, her blue eyes gleaming and bright in her flushed face as she looked up at him. He supported her ass, moving in and out of her in regular thrusts, and she kept one arm looped around his shoulders as she moved the other between them.

"Oh," she cried out, trembling as she stroked her clit again, and her sex tightened against his. "Oh my God, oh my _God..._ "

"You feel—perfect," he murmured, gazing straight into her eyes as he penetrated her, and her lips parted as she moaned. "And I do need you, my wife."

"You're safe," she whispered. "It's all right, you're safe... oh _yes_ , oh yes, oh _fuck_ you feel so good..."

She bucked her hips and he held onto his control until she had tipped her head back and was screaming at the pleasure of it, her inner flesh rippling and clenching around him as she came, her bright eyes streaming as he gazed into them. _Keep touching yourself_ , he told her, and she nodded frantically, screaming again as he thrust his full length into her and spent himself.

They were locked together that way for a long moment, almost motionless, both of them gasping and panting for breath. Then he kissed her temple, reaching for her hand, and brought it to his mouth. He tasted her arousal on her fingertip as he drew it between his lips, meeting her gaze, and she shuddered.

"So fucking hot," she moaned, sighing as he released her hand. She ran her fingers through his hair, all of her relaxed and boneless, and he cradled her to him as he moved back down onto the bed. His seed was slick on her inner thighs and he found a cloth to clean them both, but that was all the strength he had. They were both slick, exhausted, and ready to sleep, and she cuddled against him, her lips against his breastbone.

_Safe._

There was no safety, could be no true safety. But he was as safe as he could be, with her.

Ned drew the covers up over them and she sighed as he held her again, her eyes closed, her arm looped over him. To go home with her...

"Home," she whispered, feeling the echo of his thoughts through the meld, and he kissed her temple as he began to release the tendrils of thought holding them together. "I'm glad you're coming with me. I love you."

 _And I love you_ , he told her, stroking her cheek. Soon her breathing was even, and he waited until she had drifted off to sleep before he joined her, their bodies tangled together.


	2. Chapter 2

For Nancy, generally the concept of home involved a small, basic living facility with a bed and a sink, and her small metal case. She had lived in those conditions before. More often, her living quarters were guest housing on a starbase or starship. Even so, while on the job she caught her sleep when she could, dressed quickly and in utilitarian clothes, and was unfailing in her duty.

Which meant that coming back to their shared quarters after his morning exercises in the recreational facilities on _Trudeau_ and finding her still asleep was a novelty.

Ned took a quick shower and dressed in his civilian clothes, and still she slept. Their lovemaking the night before had left her exhausted, and she was nervous, too, about meeting her new stepmother, about introducing her husband to her father.

He sat down on her side of the bed, gazing down at her. If he touched her, she would probably wake.

She was so fragile, so young. Neither of them had quite reached the cusp of middle age, and while they had reached approximately the same point in their respective lifespans, chronologically she was less than half his age.

She made a soft noise, shifting onto her side, then opened her eyes. When she saw he was sitting there, she didn't seem surprised; she reached up and brushed at her lashes, then gave him a smile. "Good morning," she murmured.

"Morning," he replied, keeping his voice soft. "We're on course to rendezvous with the planet at eleven-hundred."

"So I have time to take a shower and get some breakfast," she murmured, pushing the covers down. She had slept naked and cuddled up against him, and she was still naked now.

"Do you wish to join me?" She smiled.

"I will join you for breakfast," he told her.

She gave him a small pout, her eyes dancing. "Let me clean up and see if I can't change your mind on that."

"It would be inefficient to shower again."

"So you think you'd work up a sweat?" She grinned at him. "Besides, it would conserve resources, were we to shower together."

The dichotomy was so strange. She enjoyed seducing him. She liked breaking his self-control. And when they were both off-duty, when he had nothing else distracting him, the fact that she was willing and _happy_ to get down on her knees, to nuzzle and kiss and stroke his sexual organ with her tongue, to draw him into her mouth and suck against him until he reached orgasm—it was incredible. It served no purpose but pure pleasure for him, and for her the benefit of seeing him sated and spent. She liked it when he twined his fingers through her hair, twisting it in his fist as she sucked his cock, as she thought of it.

She was quick, too, for a Terran. She didn't have the same speed he did when it came to advanced multi-dimensional calculus, but she was much more willing to think about complex real-life problems differently. He had discussed certain aspects of the project with her—she was his mate, and thanks to the bond, she already knew everything about it—and she had helped him come up with solutions that hadn't occurred naturally to him or any member of his team.

It was so strange, he thought. Infinite diversity in infinite combinations was a philosophy embraced by most Vulcans, including his family, but he had seen it in action. She completed him, and his birth family would never understand that.

Maybe they would, in time. Nancy was eager to believe they would. He didn't enjoy their disappointment in him, but he had accepted it. He hadn't allowed it to shake his own certainty that what he was doing was right.

Nor would they.

When Nancy had told Bess that she and Ned would be going to Earth for their leave, Bess had invited them to spend a day or two on Betazed, and they had agreed. George had been scheduled to arrive a few hours before Nancy and Ned did, and so her friends were waiting for them on the planet.

Bess and George. Ned had seen them each since he and Nancy had reconciled, and they had accepted Nancy and Ned's decision to stay together without bringing up the unusual circumstance of their relationship. Ned had, very quietly and very deep down, dreaded seeing them again, knowing that they could echo his family's sentiments, and he had been just as quietly relieved when they hadn't. Nancy loved George as she would a fellow crewmember. Often her life was in George's hands, and George's life was in her hands, and they had grown very close during their partnership; Nancy valued George's opinion and her friendship. Even though neither of them had known Bess as long, Bess was a Betazoid and able to make friends quickly. Though George treated Bess with exasperation and occasionally disdain, Ned could tell that George still valued their friendship too.

Bess considered Ned her friend, too. For Ned, friendships with non-Vulcans—any kind of relationships, really—were difficult to maintain. The level of intimacy insisted upon was uncomfortable, and his lack of affect often unintentionally offended them. Bess, though, was able to sense what he didn't express, and while that discomfited him, he did his best to ignore it.

Nancy and Ned beamed down to the capital city on Betazed's main continent, to the Starfleet barracks. When they passed through the gate, Bess was there to meet them. She wore a long, flowing purple gown in a soft fabric that tied at one shoulder and draped over her waist. Given her pregnancy, though it was still early, she was reluctant to travel off-planet.

"Nancy!" Bess exclaimed, wrapping her friend in an exuberant hug, and Nancy laughed as she hugged her too. "It's so good to see you again! You're looking well... and Ned! Welcome to Betazed."

Bess wrapped Ned in an equally exuberant hug, which he stiffly endured. "Thank you for the invitation," he told her.

"Yes, thank you," Nancy chimed in with a smile. "It really is good to see you again."

"Of course it is," Bess said with a smile. "Nancy, Ned, this is my husband, Barin."

Barin gave Nancy a hug; he was tall, his eyes just as dark as Bess's, and when he smiled he showed even white teeth and a dimple in his cheek. When he looked over at Ned, he gave him the more socially acceptable greeting of the Vulcan salute without touching him. "Welcome, Nancy and Ned. It's a pleasure to meet you. I only wish your stay could be longer."

"Maybe next time."

George was bouncing on the soles of her feet. "Come on, come _on!_ "

Nancy laughed at her, reaching for Ned's hand. He touched his index and middle finger to hers. "We've barely arrived, George."

"Yes, _but._ "

"But Barin and I were discussing going on a little camping trip, and George can't wait to get out of the city," Bess said with a smile. "So we were going to depart, but we need to pick up some provisions first. And since George here likes the idea of 'roughing it' far more than I do..."

Ned had noticed that George was carrying a Starfleet-issue pack, the kind cadets used when going on survival training exercises. From his own training he remembered that they included an individual tent, a sleeping bag, water purification tablets and rations, and other materials meant to let the cadet survive in the wild. Ned had thought the endurance testing rather childish after his own _kahs-wan_ , which he had successfully undertaken at the age of eight, surviving ten days without food, water, or weapons in the dangerous wasteland of Vulcan's Forge.

"Nancy, you and Ned are welcome to use a ready-pack, as Barin and I will be. Or you can behave like barbaric savages," Bess shuddered dramatically, "like the lieutenant here."

George snickered. "I'd rather be considered a 'barbaric savage' than a pampered layabout," she told Bess. "No offense, Barin."

"None taken," Barin said pleasantly. "Proving yourself through displays of physical agility and endurance is very important to you. I understand."

Bess grinned at her husband, and he smiled back at her.

"Okay, I can see that this is going to be a really fun trip," Nancy said, shaking her head.

_Clearly Barin knows that psychoanalyzing George is the fastest way to drive her up the wall._

_Up the wall?_ Ned's expression was bland. _I can't imagine what you mean._

George let out a huffed sigh. "Look, guys, it's sweet and everything, but can you _please_ remember that I'm not telepathic? These two have been doing— _that_ —" George made a vague, vehement gesture, "all morning. It's driving me _crazy._ "

Their destination for the camping trip—or "camping" trip, as George referred to it, complete with air quotes—was Luxo Falls. They arranged for ground transport out of the city, and as they loaded their luggage, George made another disparaging comment about the use of anti-grav carts and the inability of certain people to pack lightly. The craft moved slowly in the city, accelerating when they were out of the populated areas.

Ned had never visited Betazed before, and he hadn't spent any real length of time around Bess, other than sharing meals. The landscape was beautiful and very lush, and the company pleasant. To pass the time, Bess and Barin had brought a few travel-sized games with them. As they could read minds, the games were based on chance rather than strategy, which frustrated both Ned and George. Three-dimensional chess would have been needlessly complicated and hard to transport, but it was one of his preferred games.

Since he could block his thoughts from Nancy and George if he so chose—with less success from Bess and Barin—he played another card game with them. Bess swore that she wouldn't "cheat," although Ned could sense that turning off her empathetic abilities would have been like Ned intentionally blindfolding himself, and played too.

Luxo Falls was very aesthetically pleasing; Nancy called it beautiful, her voice hushed. They found a suitable campsite on the banks of the water below the waterfall, and Bess and Barin set up the tents. Each ready-pack, which George disdained as "barely camping at all," set up immediately and was quite spacious, and included sleeping quarters, energy-efficient lights and water, thanks to the hookups. Each married couple had their own. George set up her own tent using stakes, and was quite happy and proud when she was finished.

The weather was quite pleasant and warm, the skies clear. They set out a picnic dinner and Ned was pleased to discover that Bess had accounted for his dietary choices and brought a vegetarian entrée.

Once they were finished, Nancy went to their tent and came back with a few wrapped gifts. "Since it's Christmas on Earth," she explained, "and we're on our way home to celebrate, I brought you presents. That's part of the traditional observation."

"Oh, Nancy!" Bess beamed. "How very thoughtful of you! I love presents."

George wrinkled her nose at Bess. "Why am I not surprised at all."

"It's not weakness to love presents, George. Nancy clearly enjoys giving them." Bess was serene. "And she'll enjoy the present you bought for her, no matter how scandalous it might be."

"Bess!"

"Bess," Barin said mildly. "You're embarrassing them."

She chuckled. "It's so quaint. It's very hard for us to do here, you see. We're so accustomed to sharing everything... I apologize." Bess fluttered her eyelashes, but it seemed to be more for her husband's benefit than anything else.

Nancy's gift for Bess was a pendant with a stone that changed colors to match her mood, and Bess beamed and hugged her again. "It would show you that I'm very pleased right now," she said. "Which is... hmm. Pale yellow? Oooh, that's very pretty."

Barin worked as a planetary defense specialist, and Nancy knew he liked miniatures, so she gave him a small model of a soldier with a cannon. When the soldier touched the cannon, it fired small, harmless projectiles, and Barin's eyes glowed when he used it for the first time.

Bess chuckled as she watched her husband with the toy. "And this is why he will be a perfect father," she said, her tone teasing. "Sometimes he can be very childish himself."

Barin smiled. "There's nothing wrong with being easily amused, beloved."

"George, yours will have to wait until we're on Earth," Nancy said apologetically. "It was too large to pack."

They had just finished clearing up their dinner when Bess looked up. Ned's sensitive hearing told him that a group of humanoids was approaching, but they were still out of sight. Bess was smiling, though, so Ned supposed she didn't sense any danger or threat. A few other groups were camped nearby too, but the majority were on the other shore.

Nancy and George were alert, even though they were off-duty and didn't carry their phasers. Ned stood too.

Bess sensed their caution and looked back at them. "It's all right, we're expecting them," she said with a smile. "Zinna, Neph? We're over here."

A group of four Betazoids came through the trees, and by then Ned could sense them. Three males and a female were in the group, and they came over to introduce themselves.

"We were thinking about taking a hike up to the top of the falls before the show begins," Neph said, gazing at George. "You'd like to go?"

George glanced back at the group. She had barely began to say, "Would it be okay—" when Bess was waving her off.

"Go ahead. You'll enjoy it." She started to say something else, but then tilted her head, her lips quirking. Her gaze met Neph's for a second, and Ned knew a thought had passed between them. He was beginning to understand George's exasperation. Though most Vulcans had no problem communicating telepathically via touch, they also didn't choose to do so regularly.

Once George had joined the other group on their trek, Bess asked if Nancy wanted to take a walk with her. Nancy glanced at Ned before she agreed, asking if he was okay with it. She sensed that it might be awkward for him to be left alone with a man he had just met, but Barin was a Betazoid, and Ned was unperturbed. Her protectiveness and concern, under other circumstances, would have been almost charming.

Barin waited until their wives had been gone for a moment or two before he turned to Ned. "I'm sorry for your loss."

Ned had to concentrate on not making a fist. "I don't wish to discuss it."

"I understand." Barin's voice was still even and pleasant. "You'd prefer not to talk about yourself. The show we're about to see is quite stunning, and very romantic. I hope your wife enjoys it."

Ned inclined his head, but didn't otherwise reply. The Terran concept of "small talk," of discussing inconsequential matters, had always been difficult for him.

"How long have you served in Starfleet, Commander?"

"My first posting was forty-nine-point-eight years ago," Ned replied.

"Almost fifty years. That's an impressive amount of time to put in. I'm sure you've seen many remarkable things."

"My career and experience in Starfleet have been satisfactory," Ned said.

Barin smiled. "My wife," he said, his voice a little quieter, "has been beside herself, preparing for the arrival of our child. I believe that Terran women go through their 'nesting' phase later in their pregnancies; before her state had even been confirmed by a medical scan, she was ready to pick out paint colors and miniature outfits. She hasn't done much work with Starfleet, and I know she enjoys it, but I do prefer to have her home on Betazed, especially now. You and your wife are both serving, but not on board the same starship?"

"Correct. Her position with the investigations division means that she spends the majority of her time traveling. I have been stationed on a ship."

Barin shook his head. "And that's a strain. I'm sorry to hear it. I can see that—well, that she loves you, and that you love her very much. To be separated and missing someone terribly is painful. Have you considered a reassignment to be with her, or for her to be with you on board your assigned vessel?"

"Such a request would be illogical if it were not her wish," Ned replied evenly.

That had always been the basis of their relationship, since its inception. They would be together when they could, because her vocation was as an investigator, and his was to solve complicated problems, particularly the one in front of him.

They hadn't discussed reassignment, either for him or for her. Their work was too important. But, Ned considered, the work on the device on the _Banner_ would come to its natural conclusion. Then his assignment would likely stay with the _Banner_ once it received a new mission.

Were that mission a deep-space mission, he would likely be away from his wife for years at a time. The thought made him distantly uneasy. It hadn't been a frightening prospect during his marriage to T'Pav, unless the mission might prevent them from reuniting during his or her _pon farr_ , but to be without Nancy for so long...

Loving her had been unexpected, bright and terrifying and consuming. It still was. He had come to her and what they had seen inside each other had bound them in ways he was still only beginning to understand. Being without her—being without her when he had any agency or any choice was illogical.

Soon after Nancy and Bess returned from their walk, pairs and groups of other visitors began to cluster at the edge of the water. The serenity and quiet of Betazed was soothing and not entirely strange after the quiet of the ship. Betazoid society dictated that the natives use audible and visual communication when in the company of non-espers, but Ned could feel it like a subverbal whisper, the silent communication between Bess and Barin. The silent hush of anticipation, the gathered audience looking forward to the oncoming display, was just perceptible.

Nancy and Ned stood by the water, looking up at the falls where George had gone with Bess and Barin's friends. She had touched her index and middle fingers to Ned's.

Ned took a slow breath, then moved his hand to take hers in it, to lace his fingers between hers.

Nancy turned her head quickly and glanced up at Ned for a long moment, her eyes brimming. She recognized the gesture for what it was, and she was touched by it. He couldn't help feeling glad, although his expression didn't change and he showed no outward sign.

Silently they watched the show begin. The flora and fauna in Luxo Falls were bioluminescent, and the show began once full night fell and the moons were high and bright in the sky. Gentle flutters of color curved and arced through the water. He even saw some traveling down the falls as well.

"It only happens during this season," Bess explained softly. "On warm, pleasant nights."

"It's incredible," Nancy murmured. Her forearm was pressed to Ned's, and the contact was its own intimacy, one they usually shared only when they were alone. It made him feel self-conscious, and naked. To her, though, it felt natural.

He took another slow breath. All the water in front of them was radiant, green, pink, purple, blue, white, yellow, orange. As though they were aware of their audience, the creatures seemed to dance in a slow elegant pattern.

"If you clear your mind and call to them, sometimes they'll come to you," Barin said softly, then moved forward on the bank, collapsing gracefully into a seated position. He dipped one bare toe into the water, and only thirty seconds had passed before a cluster of lights had gathered near him. Many other people were doing the same thing.

Bess sat down beside her husband, and then Nancy released Ned's hand and sat down beside Bess, listening intently as Bess tried to coach her on how to do it. Ned stood a few feet away, feeling the loss of her touch. Almost immediately he turned his thoughts to something else, anything else, ignoring how alone and isolated he felt. It would be unbecoming for him to engage in something so frivolous. He was apart, and he always would be. In Starfleet or outside it, among crewmembers or anyone else. He felt it keenly, and just as keenly he turned himself away from it.

Nancy's soft giggle broke into his thoughts. "Oh, I wish I could do it so easily as you!" she told Bess. "I'm sure Ned will be a natural at it. He can clear his mind so well." She turned and looked over her shoulder at him. "Come here, love," she murmured.

Still he stood apart. "I am content."

She extended her hand. "Please," she whispered.

He was aware that her begging, the expression on her face and in his eyes, should have no effect on him. He was aware that he was free to refuse. But he knew that refusal would hurt her.

He wanted to belong. He wanted to be a part of them, and she was letting him.

"Please," she whispered again, and he knew that while it was easier for her, she still found it difficult to show vulnerability and weakness, especially around other people. But she had promised him that she would, and so she was.

He took a step toward her, then reached down to remove his footwear. "In the spirit of scientific inquiry," he said, and then sat down beside her.

She smiled and laced her fingers through his again, safely between them instead of on her knee where Bess would have seen it and possibly commented on it. Ned had just barely dipped his own large toe into the water when an orange fish began to move curiously toward him.

"See? Told you," Nancy said softly.

"I've brought some patients out here for therapy," Bess said, equally softly. "The more turmoil they express, the more distant the lights are. The more calm and serene they feel, the closer the lights come. It's a good metaphor for depression and sadness, and it helps train them in biofeedback. I'm impressed, though." Bess's tone became a little warmer. "Knowing how you feel about Nancy, Ned, I'm surprised you were able to clear your mind so efficiently."

Ned made no comment, focusing instead on a smaller purple fish swimming closer to him. He could see the details of its translucent fins, the small eye.

"Bess," Nancy chastised her softly.

"Yes," Barin chimed in. "A person can love another quite ardently without shouting it from the rooftops. As it were."

"Maybe I should pick something else to focus on," Nancy suggested. "What did you bet me if George doesn't come back down to her tent tonight?"

"Are you sure you want to bet her?" Barin said softly from Bess's other side. "Remember that we know what's going on up there..."

"And I know George," Nancy replied.

Ned listened to their teasing conversation, but his gaze was on the swirl of lights at his feet. Occasionally a fish would lose interest and swim away, but he had attracted a large group when he saw a larger individual light coming toward him. A turtle, it appeared. Nancy hadn't been able to concentrate, and despite Bess and Barin's teasing, small clusters of drifting lights lingered at their feet.

"What happens when a person enters the water?" Ned asked, during a lull in conversation.

Bess's tone became more serious. "The fish are rather intelligent," she replied, "but they're also cautious. If they sense turmoil or malicious intent from people on shore, they swim away; they approach people who intend them no harm. But they become far, far more sensitive once a person is in the water, and they're able to defend themselves. In a pack, like the ones gathered around your feet—if you were in the water, they could incapacitate you."

Ned kept his mind blank, although Nancy gasped. "Could they hurt him now?"

"They wouldn't. He's on shore," Barin replied. "It's a rite or a challenge, to those who feel equal to it, to swim out into the middle of the lake and survive there for some length of time, and return to shore without a single bite, scrape, or wound. The only way to achieve it is to be in perfect balance and serenity. The creatures' glow is attractive at night; it's one of the ways they lure in prey—and poison it."

Nancy pulled her feet up onto shore with a soft gasp. "I think I'll just observe from here," she said.

Bess chuckled softly. "You're safe when you're not submerged in the water," she reassured Nancy. "I promise. Believe me, I wouldn't put my child at risk by doing this otherwise."

Then Nancy tilted her head. "That sounds like the perfect murder weapon. Lure someone out here and shove him or her into the water..."

Bess shook her head. "Maybe for humans," she said. "We generally don't see that kind of behavior here."

"Not just humans," Nancy said defensively. Slowly she lowered her bare foot toward the water again.

A few of the other visitors were trailing their fingers in the water, leaving swirls of sentient color behind. The effect was hypnotic and peaceful.

Nancy had come into his quarters early in their relationship and had found him meditating, and he had consented to teach her how. The practice would doubtless prove useful for her when she was in the middle of a difficult or otherwise complicated case, to put aside the distractions of the outside world and focus only on what she was able to imagine in her own head. She had used holodecks and holosuites for similar visualization, but the simulations were less efficient than using her own mind to achieve the same ends.

At least, that was what Ned knew from his own personal experience. Nancy was able to meditate, but not for very long and not very deeply. When he was with her to guide her, she was able to do it with more control and focus.

But his presence also served as a distraction. He wondered if she would do better with someone else, but in all honesty, Ned enjoyed it. Meditation, recentering, regaining his equilibrium—it was part of his daily routine, and sharing it with her made him happy.

Sharing any part of his life with her made him happy. She was curious. She wanted to understand. She wanted him to let her in.

He felt it when they were in contact, but he waited until they had retired for the night to discuss it. The ambient temperature was comfortable, and so she dressed in a short-sleeved shirt and shorts. He came to their bed wearing only shorts, and he saw her react with pleased surprise to how comfortable their bed was.

She turned onto her side, reaching for his hand, and he fitted his body behind hers, her back to his chest, his bent knees behind hers. She took his hand in hers and slipped it beneath the hem of her shirt, so that it rested against the bare skin of her abdomen.

That in itself was a sign, he thought. He rubbed his thumb very slowly back and forth against her skin.

_You are preoccupied._

Nancy released a soft sigh, cupping her hand over his larger one. _I suppose it's natural,_ she replied. _That I would see my friend pregnant and think about it too. Part of the purpose of the_ pon farr _is biological, is it not?_

_Undoubtedly._

_And you want children._

She wasn't asking; she didn't need to. _It is logical to procreate,_ he told her. _If we both wish it. To perpetuate... but our offspring would be..._

 _Despised,_ she filled in for him when he trailed off. _Outcast. Considered inferior._

 _On Vulcan,_ he completed the thought.

 _But not on Earth. Not on board a ship, not in Starfleet._ She paused. _But you would want any child we had to understand your culture, your beliefs. To take him or her home._

 _My family would not be interested in what they would see as further compounding the illogical mistake of our union._ He managed to project it without letting disappointment or anger color his thoughts.

Nancy turned in his arms. "Oh, Ned," she whispered, reaching up to cup his cheek. "Ned, I'm so sorry."

_That question aside, were you to become pregnant, you would give birth on Vulcan._

_Why?_ She raised one eyebrow. "To make sure our child is a Vulcan citizen?"

He shook his head. _Because if you carried my offspring, the gestation would be difficult and potentially dangerous for you,_ he told her. _You and the child would likely both need emergency treatment around the time of delivery. No physicians are more familiar with Vulcan physiology and treatment than those on my home planet._

He could feel the sudden bloom of fear in her. _Oh. I... I did not find much about it, when I did research._

He reached up and stroked her cheek too, idly finding her _katra_ points. _I had also found reason to research it,_ he projected to her. _And I say again that I would not force you to carry our child. There are alternatives._

Although they weren't melded, and although over the course of their time together he had been helping her build the mental discipline to shield her thoughts from espers, she was unable to hide her immediate response from him. Wild jealousy and sadness and hurt. Imagining that during his next _pon farr_ , he would take a Vulcan female as his mate and have a child by her, a _pure_ child, one his parents could accept and treat as their own family. She imagined that she would never know what it was to have their child. Worse, that she would become pregnant, and the difficulties and incompatibility would result in a miscarriage.

"Nancy," he said softly, firmly, tipping her chin up so he could gaze into her brimming eyes. "Shh."

She released a soft distressed sound. "Can we at least try?" she whispered.

He nodded. _And we could pursue having a Vulcan surrogate carry the child, for one,_ he told her. _It would not be impossible for us to procreate naturally, but I have to insist upon having a Vulcan physician monitor any potential pregnancy. My genetic and physiological traits would be dominant in any child we have. And I would be disturbed if I could have done anything to keep you safer, and I failed to do so._

He brushed the ball of his thumb gently against her lips, and she kissed it.

 _I wish to try,_ she told him, searching his eyes. _If... because you wish it, and because I do too._

Nearly all Starfleet officers and crewmen elected to undergo a short, painless procedure that resulted in potentially permanent but easily reversible sterility. It eliminated the need for any more archaic form of birth control, and because the surgery which restored fertility was just as quick and was almost immediately effective, the decision to pursue pregnancy could be made quickly, too. It was the responsible choice for those whose cultural or religious beliefs allowed it, and both Nancy and Ned had elected to undergo the procedure before their first active assignments.

The biological imperative of his _pon farr_ hadn't been affected by it. While he had intellectually known that no child could result from copulating with his mate, his physical need had been satisfied nonetheless.

Having a child with T'Pav hadn't been nearly as frightening a prospect. As she had spent the majority of her time on Vulcan, as she had been fully Vulcan, any pregnancy would likely have been unremarkable and easy.

With Nancy, though.

Their child would be between their worlds and cultures, never fully part of one or the other. Vulcans held a place of prestige in Terran society; their discipline, rationality, and intelligence meant that they were respected, and a small segment of that society practically fetishized them. Earthlings wouldn't judge Nancy harshly for marrying Ned or having children by him. Though her world hadn't been known historically for its tolerance, at least he knew their child wouldn't be rejected there, as he or she would be on Vulcan.

All that assumed that her more delicate physiology would survive pregnancy.

Perhaps she feared that he would find someone else to bear his children, but intellectually he knew it would be more rational for her to reproduce with a male of her own species. It would be physically and emotionally easier for her to carry and bond with a human child. She would be safer.

She made a soft noise, touching his cheek, and he realized that she had caught the drift of his thoughts. "No," she said softly. "I don't want anyone else. I don't want to have children with someone I don't love. You are my mate. You are my husband. And while I wish to carry your child, if I'm unable and we would need to find a surrogate, someone... strong enough..." She choked a little. "If it's possible... perhaps you will think it sentimental and irrational, but I like the idea of having a child who is both of us. Even if we have a little boy with dark hair and dark eyes and pointed ears and green blood, he'll be ours.

"Because, between us, my love..." Her gaze fell to his lips. "Between us is a point where there is no logic, no reason or rationality. There's just the knowledge that against all probability and reason, we fit. We are one. And knowing that, whatever else, whatever obstacles we face, we'll find a way through. I know we will."

She kissed him gently, and he stroked her cheek as he returned it. Then she reached down and pulled her shirt off, and he skimmed his palms up over the smooth skin of her sides, tracing the line of her spine as she moved on top of him.

He did want a child. But her life was more important. If carrying their baby would break her, he would do everything he could to prevent it from happening.

She kissed him again. "Oh, Ned," she whispered. "It's a happy thing, or at least it should be. To have a child together. Please... I'll be okay. I'll be fine. You look so upset."

He touched her _katra_ points. _I cannot lose you,_ he told her.

Her eyes gleamed as she looked into his. _And you never will,_ she told him. _Maybe we will be parted for a while, but I have to believe that we will be together again, after. Your spirit and mine._

She had told him once that she would love him better, knowing that they would likely be parted before the end of his life. Ned had come to terms with his own mortality a long time ago, before his wife had even been born.

But apparently he still hadn't come to terms with hers.

She straddled him, moving against him, and he let her control their lovemaking. The lights were low, and cast her in dim shadow, dark where she sank her teeth into her lower lip, dark where her hair fell against the curve of her cheek. He gazed at her, tracing the familiar lines and curves of her bare flesh, savoring her gasp when his thumb rubbed against her clit.

Humans. Every individual member of the species he had met had been passionate to a fault, as though they could feel their lives racing by and were desperate to experience all they could, to learn and feel and burn, with anger, with desire, with joy. Very little was able to rattle Ned's composure, and in comparison his wife was stable too, but inside, oh, he could see inside her for what she was. He appreciated the way she was able to keep her emotions in check when she was in public, to control herself.

But when they were alone, it was like a siren song. He had resisted it for so long. To feel was to be vulnerable, defenseless, imperfect. Open to hurt.

Loving her had opened him to being hurt. Loving at all had guaranteed it.

But he wouldn't give it or her up, not for worlds. He wouldn't let his certainty of future pain ruin the present joy.

They could be only what they were, no more, no less. And what he was, what she wanted, was all of him.

And so when she wanted more contact with him, he sat up and caressed her, stroked her, nuzzled against her skin, plucked at the tender buds of her nipples and fondled her clit. She kissed him, dug her nails into the skin of his back and shoulders, and rode him with short exuberant thrusts, her breasts brushing against his chest.

He held onto his control for her, fondling her until she was gasping and clenching around him, trying to stifle herself even though Ned was sure that any Betazoids in proximity could feel her joy without trying. He refrained from spending himself as she rode him through her orgasm, until she had come again, her sex slick and tender around him.

Then he touched her cheek, finding her _katra_ points, initiating the meld with a whisper. She gasped, crying out as his pleasure joined with her own, twining around her, sending a charge of renewed desire up her spine and throbbing in her core.

He moved and she clung to him, wrapping herself around him as he leaned over her, then worked in her until she was shuddering and panting. She nuzzled against him, her breath hot against his skin, and he felt what she did, a desire to be as close as they could, to be annihilated, destroyed and remade by the joy of their union.

She sobbed his name and he felt her eyelashes brush his cheek, felt her sex pulse around him. She ran her fingers through his hair, a low moan on her lips, and when he laid her down she angled her hips and welcomed him as he buried himself deep inside her and reached his climax.

Then he closed his eyes and relaxed against her, holding her as she gasped and trembled against him, the high of her successive orgasms bleeding off as she nuzzled against him again.

"I love you," she whispered. "Oh, I love you so much."

 _And I love you_. He brushed his lips against her cheek, and when she turned to kiss him, his lashes fluttered down again.

A child, to her, represented love. No matter the circumstances, even if ultimately the child they raised was not biologically theirs, she would love their son or daughter. He or she would never doubt it, would never question it.

To deny anyone what he wanted for himself... he couldn't.

She cupped his cheek and smiled at him. "It will be all right," she whispered, and kissed him again. "You'll see."

He nodded, and kissed her again.

\--

On the way to Earth, Nancy was too nervous and anxious to even tease George about where she had been during their camping trip on Betazed. Bess hadn't been so reticent during their morning meal, and though George had crept back to her tent an hour before sunrise, Bess had still counted it as her staying out all night.

Nancy would doubtless bring it up later. For now, though, she couldn't focus on anything other than what was about to happen. Her husband was about to meet her family.

Ned could read her thoughts easily. She was worried that Ned wouldn't like them; she was worried they wouldn't like him. She was worried about a thousand things that might go wrong. She was worried that they would somehow offend each other, or that her father might make her feel upset about her choice. She was hurt that her father had remarried. She was guilty about her hurt feelings.

For their arrival Nancy had dressed in a pale blue sweater and black pants, and she had even put on jewelry, a pair of earrings and a silver necklace. Ned remembered her gift to Bess and her insistence on their exchange of rings during the wedding ceremony, and he hoped that what he had selected for her would be acceptable, and that he had been successful at keeping it from her. She enjoyed the concept of a pleasant surprise, but the consuming nature of the meld made it more difficult.

Ned considered what his wife wanted as he selected his outfit for the day. She would be nervous if he looked too austere or out of place, but the balance was delicate; she didn't want him to be discomfited either. He dressed in a dark-green long-sleeved shirt and khaki pants, and though he rarely took his wedding band off—only when wearing it might be dangerous or harmful—he made sure he was wearing it once he was ready.

Nancy laced her fingers through his after they checked one last time to make sure they were packed and prepared, then sat down on the bed in their assigned quarters. Her knee was jogging up and down. She was visibly nervous.

He reached up and touched her cheek, and she turned to look into his eyes, her brow knitting, her lips parted. Her anxiety seemed to jitter down his nerves.

 _Focus_.

She blew out a long breath and nodded, closing her eyes.

_No matter what happens today, you are a very competent investigator and a strong rational individual, and most of all you are my mate and I love you. I am—I am proud to be with you. Center yourself, Nancy. Be calm._

Her eyes were shining when she opened them again. "I love you," she said softly. "You're proud to be with me?"

"Yes," he said softly. "You can, at times, be most logical."

She chuckled, then leaned forward and kissed him softly. "And you can, at times, be very sweet," she said. "Thank you."

He knew that she was still nervous, but she seemed more calm as they made their way to the transporters. Nancy hugged George goodbye, wishing her a pleasant break and telling her she would see her again soon. Then she came back to Ned, touching her index and middle fingers to his.

Nancy's father had told her that he would pick them up at the transit station, and Ned recognized him immediately. The happiness his wife felt on seeing her father was clear. He could feel her stomach tense, though, when she saw the petite woman by her father's side. Her new stepmother.

"Nancy! It's so good to see you again, honey," her father said, and pulled her into a hug. "Merry Christmas."

Nancy smiled when she pulled back. "Merry Christmas, Dad. This is my husband, Ned."

As he generally did in unfamiliar situations, Ned had fallen back on his control and detachment. "Hello,"  he said, his face and tone expressionless.

Carson glanced over at the woman by his side. Ned had noticed that she was gazing at him with something like awe on her face, and he ascribed it to her unfamiliarity with Vulcans, although he thought there might be more to it than that. Carson and his wife raised their hands and gave him a slightly shaky version of the Vulcan salute.

Ned kept his expression impassive, just inclined his head. Internally, though, he was touched by the gesture, and that they hadn't attempted to embrace him.

"Nancy, Ned, this is my wife, Edith."

She smiled at both of them, her blue eyes bright. Her white hair was pulled back, and she wore a red and white sweater, her husband a navy and white one. "Nancy," she said, nodding at her stepdaughter. "Ned, it's a pleasure to meet you. I'm so glad you both were able to come visit for the holidays."

Ned hadn't been to this part of Earth during his time at the Academy, and before they walked outside, Nancy pulled out a warm parka and suggested that he do the same. The landscape was blinding white with snow, and pedestrians hurried and shivered in the cold wind.

Carson had a spacious personal transport vehicle, and they loaded the car, then headed to his home. Nancy kept in almost constant contact with Ned, and when they were inside the vehicle, he swallowed and then took her hand in his. Having more contact with her skin helped him influence her turmoil better, and she released some of the tension she was carrying in a long sigh.

"How long has it been snowing?"

Edith sighed. "Oh, the last three days, almost steadily. The climate control systems will kick in if it lasts more than another few days. I think it's very nice, though. A true white Christmas." She smiled. "How was your trip?"

"It was nice," Nancy said. "On the way we were able to see a friend and meet her husband, so that was good. I'm sorry—if I'd known the weather would be this way, I would have found transport—"

"Don't be silly," her father said with a smile, casting a glance into the backseat. The vehicle was able to drive itself, and corrected its course continually, in reaction to the other vehicles around them. "Your aunt arrived this morning, too. We left her in the kitchen working on a pie crust."

Ned raised an eyebrow. "You do not utilize replicators?"

Edith shook her head. "Oh, oh no. Certainly not if we can help it. Of course, every now and then, I find a recipe that requires some replicated ingredients, but we try to use natural ones when we can."

Nancy squeezed Ned's hand, and he felt the warmth of her internal smile.

The home was the one she recognized from her childhood, and Ned felt her happiness on seeing it again, and her sadness. She hadn't lived in the house for several years, but seeing it still made her feel safe. Now her stepmother was there, though.

Ned had always been mildly fascinated by humans. He supposed it was only natural that he feel a certain fondness for his wife's father, since he was similar to Ned's wife. Her stepmother, though... something about her made Ned feel a little less guarded, and he didn't know why.

When they arrived, two women were in the kitchen, and both of them looked up with happy smiles at Nancy and Ned's arrival.

"Aunt Eloise! And _Hannah!_ "

Nancy cried out with joy and ran into the kitchen, and despite their flour-dusted aprons, they embraced her, laughing and smiling. The taller, dark-haired woman bore a definite resemblance to her brother, but the shorter, brown-haired woman looked like none of them.

"Oh! This is my husband, Ned. Ned, this is my Aunt Eloise, my father's sister, and this is Hannah. Hannah Gruen. She was my father's housekeeper and she and my aunt helped raise me. Oh, Hannah, I can't believe you're here!"

She smiled and hugged Nancy. "Your father and Edith were nice enough to invite me for dinner, and it had been so long that I thought we could catch up. And now you're married? My, he's certainly a tall, handsome man. And I suppose you met him while you were on a starship?"

Nancy nodded. "During an investigation," she said.

Hannah hugged her again. "Oh, love, you're growing up so fast."

Nancy chuckled. "I don't think twenty-five years is all that fast, Hannah," she replied.

The three of them were chattering happily together, and Ned listened with some interested. They seemed very natural and casual with each other, and he was intrigued by seeing her in a different environment.

Then Ned heard some movement to his left, and looked over to see Edith trying to lift one of Nancy's cases. "Let me assist you," he said, and picked it up easily.

She smiled at him. "I thought I'd go ahead and get these out of the way," she said softly. "Would you mind?"

He picked up the other heavy case and Edith picked up a lighter-weight duffel bag, and she led the way upstairs. She opened a door and Ned followed her into a modest, neutrally decorated bedroom with a large bed, a large window, and a dresser with a mirror. A photo frame in the corner, activated by their movement in the room, began displaying a set of photos, many of them featuring Nancy with her peers or with her father, aunt, and Hannah.

Edith released a soft sigh. "I hope the room is all right. It's Nancy's bedroom from when she lived here."

"It appears adequate," he told her.

She gave him another smile. "And I put together a vegetarian lasagna for later. It looks very festive. I hope it's all right." She raised a hand a few inches in a small, almost fluttering gesture, then put it back down. From her body language he could tell that she was concerned too, probably for the same reasons Nancy had been.

The fact that each of them wanted a happy, uncomplicated reunion was almost amusing. They all wanted it, and they had it.

"I'm sure that will be acceptable," Ned said, when he realized she was expecting an answer. "Thank you for accommodating me."

She smiled again. "Carson has been looking forward to this for a long time," she said, and when she walked out, Ned followed her. "So your name, if you don't mind my asking. Is that your given name, or your family name? I know many of Nancy's coworkers, she seems to address by family name."

"Ned is neither," he told her. "Many Terrans find my given name difficult to pronounce and my family name impossible. It is one syllable of my family name, and it's a name used by those who are close to me."

"Would you mind telling me your name?"

He said it to her, slowly, and she nodded. "I see. So it doesn't upset you when people don't call you by your name?"

"It would be illogical to be upset by that," he said. "Human speech patterns don't contain equivalent sounds. Offense would be irrational. Nancy has learned to speak my first name," he said, and then he wasn't sure why he had said it. It was irrelevant to their discussion.

"Then I hope she could teach me how too," Edith said, with a small smile. "I—I really must apologize to you, Ned, if I do anything which offends you. You are the first Vulcan I've met, you see."

"I attended the Academy and have grown accustomed to human social behavior. I will apologize for anything I do which might seem aloof or inappropriate. Vulcans find emotion and its expression illogical, and seek to avoid it whenever possible."

Edith nodded. "I understand." She cast a glance up at him, but didn't continue her train of thought, and then they were in the living room again.

A large evergreen tree stood in the corner, decorated with strands of glowing lights and small stylized ornaments. Some brightly-wrapped parcels were stacked beneath. A mantel beneath the main transmission screen was decorated with sprigs from a glossy green and red plant, and small flameless candles stood at either side. Ned recognized that and many of the other trappings—the garland twined around the railing at the front steps, a blue and silver wreath on the front door—as traditional decor.

Their home was very near other homes, and the interior felt warm, in terms of both ambient temperature and atmosphere. It was very different from his family's home on Vulcan. But Edith paused for a second before joining her stepdaughter, sister-in-law, and Hannah in the kitchen. The three of them were laughing together, and Ned felt that separation again, this time almost on her behalf.

"So, Ned. Nancy has told us a little about you, but it's nice to finally meet you in the flesh."

Ned raised an eyebrow at the turn of phrase, but took the seat Carson gestured him to. "Thank you, Mr. Drew."

"Carson. Please call me Carson. You're my son-in-law now, after all."

"Carson," Ned repeated.

Nancy returned from the kitchen then, looking between them, almost anticipating some awkwardness. Or so it seemed to Ned. "Sorry for leaving you alone like that," she said. "Our luggage—"

"Edith and I took it upstairs," Ned told her.

"Oh," Nancy said, and folded her arms low over her belly. "I..."

"Have a seat," Carson suggested. He was seated in an armchair, and Nancy took the seat beside Ned on the couch, then tentatively touched her fingers to his. Ned took her hand. It was the human custom, and she preferred it.

Within the next few minutes, Edith came in to offer drinks, and then all six of them were seated in the living room, looking expectantly at each other. Everyone other than Ned had a mug of apple cider. Ned had asked for a glass of water.

"So," Carson said. "You two met in Starfleet."

Nancy nodded and took over the telling of the story. "On a starbase," she said. "I was on an investigation, and he was a witness."

She didn't elaborate, and Ned was glad for that. He didn't know how she would have explained the circumstances of their meeting or their marriage easily.

"How long have you been in Starfleet, Ned?"

"Forty-nine-point-eight years," he replied.

Carson's eyebrows rose slightly. "That's a long career," he said, a touch of awe in his voice. "Wow. Nancy had told us that your birthday was coming up, but I didn't expect quite so many candles on the cake."

Ned could feel Nancy's discomfort. "Dad," she said softly.

"I'm sorry. I just didn't realize."

Ned cleared his throat. "In three days, I will be seventy years of age," he said. "I do not expect or require any additional observance. Nancy and I came here to celebrate this holiday with you and I do not wish to interfere."

"Oh, it wouldn't be an interference!" Edith insisted. "It's your birthday! And... well, if it's acceptable, since I know we might not see either of you again for a while, we could have a little party for both of you."

Nancy shook her head immediately. "No, no, I'm sure it's too much trouble..."

"Nonsense," Edith said. He saw her gaze travel to a large canvas bag beside her chair.

Nancy swallowed, then looked around the room. "So, are we having all the usual things tomorrow? Turkey, mashed potatoes?"

Edith nodded. "Turkey, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce. I found a recipe for _plomeek_ soup, and I thought I would add that to the menu too."

Nancy squeezed Ned's hand. "That sounds very nice," she told Edith, and gave her a small smile.

"If you've been in Starfleet so long," Nancy's father asked after a lull in their conversation, "you must have a high rank."

"I'm third in command of the _Banner_ ," Ned said, "as a lieutenant commander, but I'm not in the command track. I don't desire to captain a starship. The highest rank I believe I would desire is possibly executive officer."

"Second in command."

Ned nodded. "My reasoning is more closely aligned to that job than a captaincy."

Carson nodded.

"So how long had you two known each other before you decided to marry?" Eloise asked, a smile on her face.

Nancy and Ned glanced at each other. "Not... long," she said, her voice sounding almost strangled. "You could say it was love at first sight."

"One could," Ned agreed. "Inaccurately."

Eloise raised her eyebrows. "Well, now I'm definitely intrigued."

Ned sensed that Nancy was distinctly uncomfortable at the conversational topic. "Nancy's investigation meant that she and I held several conversations," he put in. "Our paths had crossed a few years earlier, when she was transported by my assigned ship. I had noticed her then and thought she was very—" He paused, then put in the word they would find more acceptable. "Beautiful."

"Oh," Eloise said with a smile. "That's very romantic. Did you keep in touch between?"

They shook their heads. "But I will admit that I found Ned very intriguing, almost immediately," Nancy said with a smile. "In spite of the fact that he was a potential suspect."

"Although I'm sure that helped," her father said with a smile.

"So are you two—together, assigned together? Is Ned an investigator too?" Hannah asked.

They shook their heads. "I'm currently assigned to _Banner_."

"And I'm still working for Starfleet Intelligence, so I'm on assignment throughout the Federation. Between assignments, though, I'm able to see Ned."

Carson looked down, doubtless remembering when he had been in a similar situation, when his first wife had done the same. But he probably hadn't even been able to see his wife as often as Ned could see Nancy.

"And how long have you been married? Nan, I'm sorry, I just feel so out of the loop. It's been a while since I've heard from you." Eloise raised an accusing eyebrow at her niece.

Nancy looked down. "I know, and I'm sorry. I guess I've just been a little preoccupied. When I'm not on assignment, I try to see Ned." She moved the band on her left ring finger. "We've been married a little over a year, now."

Carson smiled. Ned could see some strain in it. "Well. I'm sorry that we weren't able to meet earlier than this..."

"But we're together now," Edith put in. "And that's what's important. And we're so glad to have you here."

Carson nodded. "We are," he said.

Ned tried to think of something neutral to say, but small talk had always seemed so pointless. Still, he could feel Nancy's discomfort, and he wanted to dispel it; all he could do, though, was squeeze her hand.

Social interactions like this one had always been draining to him. At least when he had been able to talk to Edith alone, he had been able to handle it better.

Eloise smiled, then. "Well. Nancy and Ned, I know it's rather cliché, but we could show you the recording. Maybe after dinner?"

Nancy nodded. "I have a recording of our wedding, as well."

"Sounds like a perfect Christmas Eve," Eloise said. "Weddings and eggnog, and maybe some Christmas cookies."

Ned found a generous selection when he did sit down at the dinner table. Along with the vegetarian lasagna, Eloise had prepared roasted chicken for the main course, with flaky buttery rolls, fungi caps stuffed with cheese, breadcrumbs, and herbs, and other vegetable side dishes. Nancy still felt nervous, but she relaxed as everyone else reminisced about other Christmas celebrations. Ned noted that Edith asked questions, but often didn't join in with her own observations, and Ned didn't join in at all. Occasionally they thought to explain a reference to him, but Ned was able to catch the meaning of most of it, thanks to all the times he had shared his wife's experiences and memories.

She was also very nervous about showing her family their wedding ceremony. Ned was curious about watching the recording, in an objective way. Much of that span of days was less than linear in his memories. What he remembered most clearly was the inescapable flame of his desire for Nancy, the way it had burned him, burned them both alive.

Ned was still drinking water, but everyone else had switched to eggnog, when they retired to the viewing room to watch the recordings. They watched Carson and Edith's wedding ceremony first; it had been brief, and he wore a suit Ned associated with businessmen, while Edith wore a casual dress. They exchanged rings; they smiled at each other when they said their vows, their voices clear, but emotion in their eyes. Seeing it, Ned could feel, made Nancy's heart hurt. When Eloise complimented Edith's dress, and Hannah joined in, Nancy murmured her own praise too.

Then they watched the wedding ceremony that had been held on board the starbase, and Nancy was intensely self-conscious about all of it: the attire Ned wore in the recording, the dress she wore, the Vulcan half of the ceremony, but the part that had been given in English too.

And he could feel it, just as he had when they had reconciled. For those months she had felt like a fool for marrying him, not understanding, refusing to believe that his proposal had been anything more than a request for an isolated night of passion. His rejection of her just afterwards had tainted the ceremony for her, and she burned again with the shame that had colored it for her in her memories.

He had not renewed their vows; he had not seen the need. They still stood, and had not been broken. But in her heart, she had thought that they weren't true for him. For her, in spirit, they had been worthless for that time. And in her heart, logic held no sway. The sentiment was just as important to her as the fact.

When the recording reached the appropriate point, his vows to her, Ned laced his fingers through his wife's and projected the words to her again, as his younger self had said them to her. The words were in Vulcan, but she understood the meaning behind them, just as he did.

_I love you, my wife._

She glanced over at him, her eyes shining. He could see it now, the anxiety and fear in her face and her voice on the recording. She had believed him, when he had promised her that he would be there for her. And then he had taken it away. He had left her alone. She had been vulnerable to him, had shared her body and her love with him, and after their night together he had been unable to do the same.

She had not known, had not understood, that deep in his heart he had felt the pain of their separation just as keenly, even more keenly, than she had. Separately they had mourned. Together, they were whole.

_I love you, my husband. When I said the words to you I didn't understand what you would mean to me... but I would marry you again. For a while I wished with all my heart that we had never met, but now I can't imagine what life would be like without you, how lonely I would be. I love you._

"Your dress looks lovely," Edith said, and both of them turned to look at her, blinking as they focused on something outside their silent communion. He knew that she had not told her family about their bond; she felt it was personal and private.

"Thank you," Nancy said, her voice a little faint, before she cleared her throat.

"So rings are not part of your culture's marriage ceremony?" Eloise asked.

"No," Ned replied.

"Ned wears it because I asked him to," Nancy admitted. "Vulcans don't wear wedding rings, or anything else symbolizing their marital status."

"Must make singles clubs a lot more complicated," Hannah said. Ned had opened his mouth to respond when he realized she had been joking, and closed his mouth again. Singles clubs. He consulted Nancy's experiences.

_I would sooner endure another week in Vulcan's Forge._

Nancy chuckled silently. _Surely you exaggerate._

_Ten days, then._

Nancy squeezed his hand, focusing again on the people around them.

After the film was over, Eloise asked if the two of them had taken a honeymoon. Nancy said that they had, remembering the time they had spent together just after their reconciliation, the hours they had been twined around each other, when he had shown her over and over again all the love and passion he felt for her, and had felt it from her all over again.

Soon after, Eloise said she was tired, and they all decided to retire. Nancy hugged her father before he went upstairs, and exchanged a smile with her new stepmother; she hugged Hannah and Eloise, too. Ned saw the way Edith's gaze lingered on Nancy, and the sadness there.

Then Ned followed Nancy to what had been her bedroom, and she looked around, shaking her head. The bed and wall color were new, but everything else was much the same as she remembered it; she went to the window and looked out, telling him about how she had sat on the window seat and looked up into the night sky, imagining that she was with her mother, having adventures with her. Even once she had been told about the accident that had taken her mother's life, that idle daydream had still lingered, as though some version of her mother was still alive and still out there.

When Nancy prepared for bed, she came back into the room wearing a long silky gown. He couldn't say he was surprised; even though she was self-conscious about being home again, she felt secure and loved when they had intercourse. She would want to feel that way again, after how anxious she had been all day.

"You know one thing we didn't do?"

Her voice was soft, and Ned stood, coming toward her when she stood still and gazed at him. "What?"

"You've never slow danced."

"Adult Vulcans do not dance."

She smiled. "I understand," she said. "But it's traditional for a new bride to share her first dance with her husband. And I'd definitely like the first dance of my married life to be with you."

She walked over to the panel on the wall and navigated through the menus, turning on some music, soft and slow, no vocals. Then she came to him; she stepped close to him, until their bodies were just touching, reached for his hands and guided them so his arms were around her and resting against the small of her back. She looped her arms up over his shoulders so her fingers were resting lightly against the nape of his neck.

"Now just move with the music," she murmured, gazing up into his eyes, and he waited for her lead. Her hips rocked gently, slowly, and she shifted her weight, beginning to turn with him in a slow circle.

"Humans dance this way together, in public. Even without being espoused."

She nodded, her lips turning up a bit. "Sometimes without even really knowing each other that well," she murmured. "But in that case, usually not this close. When a couple is in love, though, they dance like this, looking into each other's eyes."

He held her gaze, and gently traced his fingertips against the line of her spine. "Is this meant to incite arousal?"

She tilted her head. "Sometimes. Is it?"

"It is proximity. It is... intimate."

"I suppose it is," she murmured. She ran her fingers through his hair, gently. "There's a saying, that you can tell how a person will behave in bed by how he or she dances... which is not true at all, for you."

"Am I not dancing with sufficient attention?"

She smiled. "You're doing it because I want you to," she said. "But I know it's strange for you. Are you... are you all right?"

"I am content," he said. "Are you feeling less anxious?"

She searched his eyes. "I don't know," she said softly. "I suppose I was being foolish, thinking that coming back would be so difficult. I just wanted everything to be all right. And maybe it wasn't a roaring success, but at least everyone seems to be okay right now."

They were silent as they moved through another revolution together. He could feel it in her, and now that he had met her father, he still found it strange. Her father loved her, and she loved him, but she felt deeply jealous toward her new stepmother, even as she tried to deny it. For so long it had just been the two of them.

She wanted him to be happy. But Edith had taken her mother's place in her father's life, and that hurt.

_Do you doubt that your father loved your mother?_

Nancy blinked suddenly at him, her eyes gleaming. "What? No. Of course not."

_Do you doubt that he loves his new wife?_

A tear spilled down Nancy's cheek. _No_ , she projected to him, and her voice was softer.

_Do you truly feel that one must invalidate the other?_

She shook her head, and though Ned could feel that she wanted to pull away from him, to stop their conversation, she didn't. Instead she sniffled.

_Please, don't make him choose your love or hers._

"I... oh, Ned, I wouldn't," she said softly, and ran her fingers through his hair again. "I won't. I'm sorry."

He leaned down, resting his forehead against hers, and she brushed her thumb against the pointed tip of his ear. He could feel her breath against his skin.

_You did not have to marry me. Did you._

He ran his fingertips up her spine, to where her skin was bare. _Legally, no. In the event that I was unable to make it back to Vulcan, I could have taken a mate to satisfy my physical needs without the bond of marriage. But once I had melded with you..._

She tilted her head and kissed him gently. _It was illogical not to_ , she projected to him.

Slowly he arrested their movement, then began to guide her toward the bed. _I am sorry that I ever hurt you,_ he told her. _I am sorry that I couldn't explain myself before your departure._

 _And I'm sorry that your choice to be with me has cost you so much_ , she told him.

He brushed his thumb against her lips. _I have gained more,_ he told her. _Once you let me see inside you, once I knew you, no. There was no other choice._

_Despite everything._

_Despite anything._ He pressed his lips against the corner of hers in a soft, chaste kiss. _I love you._

She took his hand in hers, drawing her to the bed with him, then pulled her gown off. He stripped off his shorts, kneeling over her, then touched her _katra_ points, initiating the meld with her before joining with her.

And he felt it all with her, through her. He felt her arousal, her pleasure, her desire when he touched her; he held her control in his mind, and felt her whisper and gasp against his skin as he moved inside her. She held nothing back from him, and he basked in it, in her love and joy. She twined around him, fingers digging into his back, spine arched.

When her pleasure had reached its peak he loosed his control over her, and she let out a high silent cry, her head tipped back, trembling. He moved inside her, working in her until she was sobbing quietly. He shuddered when he spent himself, and she reached up to stroke against the _katra_ point of his cheekbone, gazing up at him with wet eyes.

"I love you," she whispered.

 _And I love you_.

\--

The holiday observance at her home was a highly structured ritual, and Ned noticed that Edith was doing everything she could to keep it as close to what Nancy expected as possible. The meal was traditional, although Edith had prepared _plomeek_ soup for her son-in-law to eat with the meal. Opening wrapped parcels containing gifts that morning, the decorative stockings hung from the mantel over the symbolic fireplace, the late-morning meal of slightly stale bread fried in egg custard, dusted with cinnamon, and served with a clear amber syrup; all of it was as she expected, and Nancy was pleased by it. Ned observed it by her side; she had obtained gifts for the guests and indicated they were given by herself and Ned, and they accepted them with thanks and obvious gratitude.

The presents they were given were small and easy to transport, and Ned remembered again how transient Nancy usually was. She packed light, and she had no permanent home, not really. Only the quarters she shared with her husband when they were together. Ned accepted the few small tokens he was given with interest, internally warmed by the receiving. They were giving him gifts because of his relationship with Nancy, because they loved her. She knew that, and so he did too.

She gave him a sweater made of a soft, light wool manufactured on her home planet, and he accepted it with a nodded thanks, reaching out to touch his hand to hers.

Ned waited until that night, until he and Nancy were alone again, to give her the gift he had picked out for her. The pendant was a filigree heart made of delicate metal on a matching chain, and caged within was a smaller red heart-shaped stone that seemed to glow from within. He had wrapped the box in colored paper to fit the observance, and when Nancy opened it, she looked up at him with a smile.

"Oh, Ned, it's beautiful. Thank you so much. You didn't want to put it under the tree?"

Ned shook his head. The tree was her father's, her family's; he hadn't wanted to give her the necklace in front of that audience, just in case the gift was too personal, or one she didn't like.

"I love it. And whenever I wear it, I'll think of you."

The gift of the necklace felt frivolous and sentimental, but it made her happy, and he liked making her happy.

She wore the necklace the next day, when she went on a shopping trip with her friend Helen, her aunt and Hannah and Edith, in New York City. When she had asked if Ned wished to accompany her, he had sensed what she was hoping his answer would be. He wanted to give her time to bond with her loved ones, and her father had mentioned that they might spend some time together as well.

Ned went for a run in the neighborhood that morning, pulling a knit cap over his head to help disguise the shape of his ears; he didn't sense any overt prejudice in the Terrans in her father's neighborhood, but it was easier to blend in. After he returned and they all had breakfast, the women departed, leaving Ned alone with his father-in-law.

"I thought we might play a game," Carson suggested. "Are you familiar with chess?"

"Two- or three-dimensional?" Ned inquired.

Carson raised an eyebrow to match Ned's expression. "Either."

"I prefer three-dimensional, but I can play either."

"Three-dimensional it is, then."

Together they set up the board. Ned considered whether human custom dictated that he allow his father-in-law to win even if he had the advantage of the board, but doing so was against his own instincts. Allowing someone else to win bespoke disrespect, as far as Ned was concerned.

Once they had made their opening moves, Carson looked up at Ned. "My daughter loves you," he said.

Ned didn't take his gaze off the board. "She does."

"And you do love her."

He expressed that to her often, but talking about it with someone else felt entirely inappropriate. "Yes," he said, more quietly.

"I... it was just surprising. She had never spoken of you, and then suddenly you two were married. It just wasn't like her." Carson sighed. "But I want her to be happy, and she seems to be happy with you."

"She is happy," Ned said. "Our... courtship, was rather abbreviated. I understand your caution."

"But you're assigned separately from her? You two aren't together on the same ship?"

Ned shook his head once. "She has her career and I have mine. We are able to see each other an average of every forty-six-point-seven days. For now, the arrangement is amenable to both of us."

"And if..." Carson shook his head, and didn't continue. Ned didn't say anything to prompt him; he was already uncomfortable with the conversation.

"Can I ask about your parents? What they do? If they're still living, that is..." Carson looked ill at ease, and Ned placed his anxiety as not wanting to offend his son-in-law, but unsure about how to handle a conversation he would have held with a modicum more ease, with a human.

"They are both still living, on Vulcan. My father is a healer, a doctor; my mother is a scientist." Ned's voice was perfectly even as he said it, and he was proud of that, as he made his next move on the chess board.

"And... I suppose... Nancy has met them? Did they attend your wedding?"

Ned shook his head once. "They did not attend the wedding, and Nancy has not met them. It is unlikely that they will meet her."

"Oh?"

Ned focused on the next piece he wished to move instead of Carson's face. "They do not approve of the circumstances of our marriage," he said.

"And they don't even want to meet her?"

Ned finally moved his gaze from the board to Carson's face. "It is a private matter," he said. "I do not wish to discuss it unless you insist. I apologize."

Carson held a hand up. "I'm sorry. You're right. It's none of my business. I guess I was just surprised. You seem so different from Nancy, in so many ways... but that's probably good for both of you. I wasn't sure she would ever marry."

"She and I are very different," Ned acknowledged. "But we are complementary, and our marriage has been suitable to both of us."

Carson smiled. "Although you're both pretty reluctant to talk about how you feel, apparently."

Ned raised one eyebrow a fraction of an inch. Compared to Ned, Nancy was practically a creature of pure emotion and expression, but he also saw her in a way no one else did. Within the meld, they could hide nothing from each other—fear, doubt, or love. In public, with other people, of course she was more wary about revealing herself, as she had been when they had first met.

"Do you wish to ask me something?" Ned inquired.

Carson picked up the piece to make his next move. "No," he said slowly. "Only what I have no right to ask. She's my only child. I suppose you know about how Nancy's mother passed away?"

"Yes," Ned said quietly. "While in a position similar to the one Nancy now has."

Carson nodded. "I had so little time with her," he said. "But she loved her career. I wish I'd been able to see her more often, that Nancy had." He looked down. "We're never guaranteed safety in this life, and I know that. I would never ask you to try to persuade her to take a... well, a job that didn't put her in such danger. Because if you love her the way I loved her mother, you wouldn't ask her to make that choice."

Ned's hand was near the chess board; he returned it to his thigh, taking a quiet breath. "I know how much she enjoys her career," Ned said. "It is suited to her. I would not ask her to make that choice."

"But do you miss her when she isn't with you? Or is that not the way marriages are, for Vulcans?"

"Some Vulcans cohabitate," he told his father-in-law. "Others are separated by their careers and do not see each other for years. Nancy and I keep in contact when we are apart, and see each other more often than we might otherwise. Were she to accept an assignment on my current posting, I would not be displeased. Nor would I insist on it."

The next few turns passed with no conversation, but Ned could tell Carson was considering something. Finally he said, "I know you and Nancy may not have discussed this yet, and maybe I should ask her, but... if you and she have children..." He cleared his throat. "Would you settle down on a planet?"

"We have not specifically discussed that," Ned said. "If Nancy were to become pregnant, she would face certain medical complications that would necessitate her having the child on Vulcan. After that, though, my current posting would be more stable than hers. It would be logical if our child were to stay with me while Nancy was on assignment."

"Logical," Carson said softly. "What do you mean by medical complications?"

"A Vulcan-human hybrid child, when carried by a human mother, puts significant strain on the mother's body," Ned said. "Vulcan blood is copper-based; Terran blood is iron-based. She would need treatment for that and other significant physical differences. Doctors on Vulcan have more experience with those issues."

Carson's face had paled. "Could such a pregnancy put her life at risk?"

"Yes," Ned said. "She and I have discussed pursuing alternate methods, but if a pregnancy puts her life at risk, I would ask that it be terminated. I am already likely to outlive her; I do not wish to increase the time I will spend without her."

Carson relaxed marginally. "I hadn't realized," he said softly. "But Vulcan-human hybrids have survived, when carried by human mothers?"

"Yes. Under careful medical supervision. She wishes us to pursue that course first."

"And if you did decide to settle down?"

"If we were to live on a planet, Earth would be a more suitable choice," he said. "Your move, sir."

Carson had abandoned the game for a few minutes; when Ned mentioned it, he looked at the board again. "I apologize. I... well, Edith and I... I would love to have grandchildren. Even if those grandchildren only were able to visit every now and then. But not at the risk of Nancy's life. I love her very much... and I'm glad she's found happiness with you."

"Even though I am not human?"

Carson nodded. "My daughter has good judgement," he said. "And if you love her and care for her, if you value her life as I do... then yes."

Ned and Carson had just finished their game when they heard the front door of the house open and close. "Hello? Honey, are you home?"

"In here, Edith," Carson called, and Edith appeared in the doorway, still wrapped in a warm waterproof coat, a shopping bag on her arm and a smile on her face. "Did you have a good trip, sweetheart?"

Edith nodded. "I did. Everyone else decided to shop for a while longer, but I was feeling tired, and in the mood for some leftovers. Have you two eaten yet?"

They shook their heads. "But I have an appointment with Mr. Connors," he said. "I'll see you after, though?"

Edith bid Carson a warm goodbye, then went into the kitchen. "Ned? What would you like for lunch?"

"Do you have any _plomeek_ soup left?"

"I do. Let me reheat it for you."

They sat down together at the table, and Edith asked if Ned and Carson had enjoyed their game, but she didn't force him to make any casual conversation, which he appreciated. He was still considering the conversation he had had with Nancy's father, and he was glad that Carson agreed that Nancy's life was more important than their child's would be. While he had understood Carson's personality through Nancy's memories, his relationship with his daughter was much different from his relationship with anyone else, and Nancy's happiness was her father's utmost concern. Not Ned's species, not anything else. Just whether she was happy with him, and whether he was happy with her. Whether he would keep her as safe as he could.

But Ned's usual reticence came back around Nancy's father. There was so much he had shared with only Nancy, so much that no one else understood. His parents' rejection still hurt, and he felt a hint of shame even discussing it.

Carson wanted grandchildren. Ned's parents...

When Edith asked if she could take his emptied bowl, Ned realized that he hadn't spoken to her during the meal, but he didn't detect any signs of hurt in her expression. She seemed preoccupied too.

Ned stood, and almost asked if he could be excused; he wished to meditate, to recenter himself, but he also didn't want to offend her.

She looked up at him and smiled. "Would you like to sit with me in the living room? We don't have to talk if you don't want to. I just thought it might be nice to have some company while I'm working on a blanket."

She poured them each a freshly-brewed mug of tea—he was again bemused by her insistence on using the replicator as little as possible—and he went with her to the main room of the house. She settled in a large cushioned chair, and Ned seated himself on the couch close to her.

"I'm sorry that I keep—well, staring at you," Edith said, reaching into the large bag beside the chair and pulling out a blanket she was creating with yarn and a metal hook. "You look very much like my late husband, my first husband. James."

"I was not aware."

Her lips turned up in a small smile. "He had dark hair and dark eyes, like you," she said. "I loved him very much. And I know that chronologically you're older than I am, but you look much like I imagine our child would have. We were never able to have children. And when Carson and I began dating... well, I thought it would be nice to have children, even if they weren't biologically mine, but his."

"You did not wish to pursue a pregnancy?"

Edith smiled, but shook her head. "At my age? I don't have the energy to chase a toddler around. A grandchild or two? I think I could manage that." Then she looked down at the blanket in her lap.

Ned remained quiet. That explained the expression on her face when she looked at him.

"I'm sorry. I'm not trying to make you feel self-conscious. I just thought I'd explain."

"I understand," Ned said. "Nancy is my... my second wife."

"Oh. I didn't realize you had been married before."

"My first wife and I were also childless," he said. "As I was discussing with your husband, Nancy and I have been talking about having children. So we may soon be able to grant your wish."

Edith looked up at him, her eyes gleaming a little. "Oh, it's all right. Your life is your own, and so is Nancy's. I know she misses her mother very much, and I wish I could... I don't know. Find a way to show her that I don't intend to take Catherine's place. No one could. But she's so hurt..."

She looked down at the blanket in her lap. "I thought that I could give her this. Do you think she would like it?"

"I cannot say," Ned said. "She travels a lot on assignment, and she generally travels light. Those possessions she wishes to keep are usually in my quarters."

"I hadn't considered that," Edith murmured. "So she really has no permanent home. Except with you."

Ned nodded. "I would be pleased to keep it for her."

"I would like to make one for you as well," she said. "I... if you would like."

"I would," Ned said. He looked at his slowly cooling mug of tea. "I would be pleased to accept it, Edith."

"What are your favorite colors? I can try to make it from those."

"I do not understand the concept," he told her. "Colors are colors... though I do have a certain fondness for the blue of my wife's eyes."

Edith smiled broadly. "Well. I'll see what I can do."

When he finished his tea, he took his mug and hers to the kitchen to refill them from the teapot, studying the appliance with some interest. It was inefficient, but if she preferred to brew her own tea, he supposed it possessed a certain charm.

He placed her mug beside her and she thanked him with a smile. "I know you said your name was hard to pronounce, but could you try to teach me?"

He was touched by the gesture, but he didn't say so. Very few humans had attempted to learn his name, and he said it to her slowly. She repeated it haltingly, in sounds that were equivalent in her native tongue, then said it a few more times to herself.

"I'm saying it all wrong, aren't I." She smiled, looking down at the blanket again. "I'm sorry."

"The sounds are difficult to make when one has not learned my language from birth," he said. "The attempt is appreciated."

Edith glanced up at him again, a small smile on her lips. "James was very much the strong, silent type too," she said. "Carson is a bit more open with his feelings. I'm very glad you were able to come visit with Nancy, Ned. You're always welcome to come back and see us again."

Ned inclined his head slightly, and a silence that Nancy would almost have called companionable lingered between them.

Then Edith drew a soft breath. "Was your first wife very much like Nancy? Or does it hurt you to talk about it? You don't have to..."

"My feelings are not impacted by discussing T'Pav. She and Nancy are dissimilar in nearly every way. T'Pav and I were betrothed when we were children, and when we were of age, we married. Her career was on Vulcan, and mine in Starfleet. I did not see her often, sometimes for years. Her life was defined by her duty and her commitment to her career, and so was mine."

"She was Vulcan."

"Yes."

"If you were betrothed when you were children, you must have been very close?"

"In the human sense of the word, no."

Edith glanced up at him again. "So it was more an arranged marriage, then."

"Yes." Ned paused, and when he spoke again, he wasn't quite sure why. "My parents approved of my marriage to her. They did not approve of my career."

"And your second marriage?" Edith's voice was quieter.

Ned shook his head. "They will not accept me again unless I dissolve it," he said, and though what he was stating was fact, the almost imperceptible tremor in his voice made him concentrate even more strongly on his emotional control.

Edith's eyes were full of dismay. "Oh, Ned," she murmured. "Oh, no. But you didn't. Or are you considering it?"

He shook his head. "I have made my choice," he said. "She is my wife. Regardless of the circumstances of our marriage, she is my wife."

"You said that before," Edith said. "You mean that your marriage to her wasn't arranged and approved by your parents? But surely when you marry as an adult, you are allowed some choice?"

"I am," Ned replied. "But she is not of our world. They do not understand how I could choose her, or stay with her."

"And if you and Nancy were to have children?"

"That would not change their minds."

"Oh." Edith's hands lay motionless in her lap, her work on the blanket temporarily abandoned. "I am so sorry. You can't explain to them... but you're in love with her."

Ned focused on the mantel instead of her pitying gaze. "Love is immaterial," he said, his voice flat.

"To them, maybe. But not to you." She tilted her head. "When you told me that Vulcans found emotion—illogical? But you feel it; you love her...?"

"She is my wife," Ned said, still not looking at her.

"It's hard for you to say," she said softly. "I understand. It can be hard to talk about. But it makes my heart hurt for you, to know that they would cut you off, your own family, just because you fell in love with someone they don't approve. And she, Nancy... she's had a very respected career; all her superiors have always given her glowing reports, and her father is incredibly proud of her. Even though he is so afraid that she'll be hurt the same way her mother was, in an incident that won't be her fault. That there's nothing she'll be able to do to stop it. She's not a black sheep or a bad influence..."

"But she is human," Ned replied, keeping his voice level. "She is passionate and emotional, and she can be quite irrational. She is physically weak. Carrying my child could kill her."

"It could?"

Ned still didn't look at her. "Yes. Losing T'Pav was difficult. Losing Nancy..."

Edith made a soft noise, then moved her blanket aside and came over to him. She put her arms around him, and Ned closed his eyes. She was anxious; she didn't know what to do or what to say. But she radiated sympathy and understanding, and she stroked her hand up and down his back.

"I'm sorry," she murmured. "I'm sorry, Ned. I am."

He could feel the impulses battling in him, and knew that even two years ago, he would have gently but firmly disengaged the woman and tried to get as far away from her as physically possible. His parents would be disgusted by the prospect of such an embrace.

But Nancy had held him so many times, and he didn't understand it now, this impulse to push away comfort when it was offered, to depend only on himself. She was expressing her sympathy. As unfamiliar as it felt for someone other than his wife to embrace him, he found himself wrapping his arms around her too, listening to the soft meaningless words she was whispering to calm him.

He had known her such a brief time, but he trusted her in a way he had trusted no human, or person really, other than his wife. Maybe it was a sign of weakness, of his fraying control. He didn't think he cared.

Edith patted his back one last time, then moved back. "I'm sorry," she said. "Nancy... well, she told us a few things before you two arrived, about what you liked to eat, and she did mention that Vulcans don't like to be touched. But I just didn't know what else to do. Did I upset you?"

"No," he said quietly. "You did not. —Thank you."

She gave him a small smile. "You are my son-in-law," she said. "But I... would you mind terribly if I thought of you as my son?"

He studied her eyes. "I would be honored," he told her.


	3. Chapter 3

After their vacation on Earth, after the virtually instant, painless surgery to restore their fertility, Nancy only had one night with her husband before she was on assignment again. Their time together had been sweet, and Nancy didn't want to leave him so soon.

Saying goodbye to Hannah, her father, her aunt, and her stepmother was bittersweet, too. They encouraged Nancy and Ned to return to Earth whenever they could, at least once a year. Nancy agreed, hugging each of them. From melding with Ned, Nancy knew that her husband had developed a certain fondness for Edith, and Nancy knew that his feelings were coloring the way she looked at Edith now.

She still hated that her father had married again, but Ned had been right. She didn't want her father to be sad and alone for the rest of his life, and he had found happiness with Edith. She had treated Ned very warmly too, and accepted him, and Nancy couldn't help feeling a little more kindly toward her as a result. Nancy had been so terrified that her family would be polite toward Ned, but that would be all—that they would hold him at arm's length, interpreting his detached demeanor as hostility or disinterest, or worse.

Ned had to bend down for the goodbye kiss Edith placed on his cheek, and he accepted it without recoiling. Nancy had been careful to tell them everything she knew about Vulcan social behavior, but Nancy could tell that Ned was pleased, not annoyed, by the gesture.

She knew, too, that Ned was troubled at the thought of her being pregnant by him. He couldn't hide it, and she couldn't hide her own nervousness, either. But it was tempered by a hesitant anticipation.

Nancy had never seen herself as a mother. She had only entertained the vaguest ideas of a long-term relationship, but she hadn't thought she would settle down with any partner anytime soon. Every now and then her father had spoken wistfully of the grandchildren of his friends, but he had never tried to pressure her. Maybe because he saw her mother in her, and knew that her dream had always been the career she had now.

She was able to have, with Ned, the relationship her parents had never been able to have. She was able to go on assignment and resolve investigations, and then reunite with a partner who understood her and loved her as she had never known with anyone else. He accepted her, all of her, but she was the best version of herself when she was with him, and she knew that his being with her had helped him. Otherwise he would have taken the hurt and sorrow he felt deep inside about his family's rejection and sealed it as tight as he could, because expressing it would have been weakness.

He wouldn't have been estranged from them if he had rejected her, and that, more than anything else, made Nancy incredibly sad. But she might be able to give him a child. She might be able to give him a family, even if it wasn't the one he had lost.

That night, in their guest quarters on the starbase, Nancy changed into a diaphanous pale-green gown and checked her reflection, then walked into the bedroom. Ned was seated on the low couch in the larger sitting area, and she could tell from his posture that he was meditating, centering himself.

She had never had sex that could result in pregnancy. Intellectually she knew that it wouldn't feel different, but her fingertips were trembling faintly.

She went over to the couch, but she didn't want to disturb her husband. She gazed at him for a moment, but she knew he was deep inside himself, beyond her reach. She sat down beside him, gently, then drew her legs up, folding them.

She closed her eyes and tried to remember what he had told her, how to center herself. It started with concentrating on the rhythm of her breath, in and out, the rhythm of her heart beating, quieting herself. She could feel her pulse. She could feel the distant soft pulse of the starbase's power generators, working to keep life support on. She could feel the cold just beyond the viewing windows—

But, Ned had reminded her gently, she couldn't. She was to become nothing, a serene pool, perfectly still. She couldn't really feel the chill of the empty vacuum around them, but she could imagine it.

What she _could_ feel, though, was her husband. She could feel his warmth radiating from his skin; she could sense his breath. And his desire. She knew his desire as it slept in him. He would come to her because he wanted it too.

Her heart began to slow. Her fingertips ceased their trembling. Her breath became slow, deep and even. And yet, the surface, that serene pool she imagined in her head, sunlit and warm, was not still. Each heartbeat rippled over its surface.

She was never able to reach the state of relaxation and calm that was her goal, but she was calmer. Ned had perfect control over himself; he drew strength and peace from meditation, and when he tried to teach her, she wanted to learn and please him, but his touch was enough to make her lose all concentration.

She was aware when he came out of his own meditative state and rose, crossing to the food synthesizer. She heard the panel chirping in response to his commands as she slowly opened her eyes.

He crossed to her with an ornamented goblet in one hand, his steps slow and measured. "It is a poor imitation," he said. "But it will serve."

He took a sip from it before handing it to her to do the same. She accepted the cup; it was warm in her hand, and the liquid within was warm and smelled strong. She glanced from it to him.

"It is to commemorate our bond," he explained.

Nancy took a sip from the cup, then closed her eyes. She remembered the unusual taste of the wine they had shared on their wedding day; she tasted it again on her tongue. After a moment, he took the cup from her hand, and she kept her eyes closed as he returned to her. When he touched her hand, she opened her eyes.

He kissed her palm, then drew the tips of his index and middle fingers down the curve of her cheek. "She who is my wife," he said softly.

"My husband," she said softly. She reached up and touched his cheek, too.

His dark eyes gazed straight into hers. "I do not wish you to be hurt," he said. "Your life is more important."

"I understand," she whispered. "But I haven't changed my mind."

His gaze stayed on hers for another moment. Then he stood and she did too, but instead of taking her hand or lifting her into his arms, he let his gaze move down her body. "You are beautiful," he whispered.

She smiled. "So are you," she replied.

Her heart started beating faster when he reached up and splayed his fingers, finding those specific points of contact. He looked into her eyes and she gazed back, and oh, she felt the way her body responded to just the intimacy of that touch, even though he hadn't even begun to undress her.

He murmured the words and Nancy's eyes pricked with tears, but she blinked them away and kept looking into his eyes. When she touched his _katra_ points too, stroking them gently, he turned his face and kissed her palm. He kissed her wrist, brushing his lips against the sensitive inner flesh of her forearm.

Then he laced his fingers between hers, guiding her to the bed, and his control, his strength, were holding her. When they reached the bed he turned to her and she slipped her arms around his neck, tilting her face up. "Love me," she whispered.

But he just gazed at her for a moment, and she felt it in him, felt it in their joining and the memories they had shared. It was a step, a division. There had been a time when he and his family had not been estranged; there had been a time when he had been alone. There had been a time before he had decided to pursue having offspring, and now that time had passed.

There had been a time before he had known the love they now shared. He would not risk it. He couldn't.

She ran her fingers through his hair and he kissed her. He stroked the back of her neck, the line of her spine; he reached for the button holding her gown together and unbuttoned it, and it flowed off her like water, sliding to the floor when she dropped her arms. She was weak-kneed when he moved her onto the bed, her only remaining garment a pair of satin panties. Before he joined her he unfastened his robe and tossed it onto a chair beside the bed, and he was clad only in shorts beneath.

She stripped off her underwear before he moved onto the bed, her legs already open for him. Her heart was in her throat. His eyes were so dark, and when she gazed into them, she felt his reassurance and his love.

"I love you," she whispered, as he lowered himself to her. He nuzzled against her neck, and she held him; she couldn't stop trembling, and it seemed to radiate from her own heart.

Then she felt his lips move against her skin, felt his breath. "I love you," he whispered.

The tears rose in the space of a breath. She had felt it before, she knew it was true, but she had never heard him speak it, outside the formality of their wedding vows, when she had not yet truly known him. She touched his back and he moved to look into her eyes again, as she blinked the tears down her cheeks.

"I love you," he said, looking into her eyes, and she made a soft noise and touched his _katra_ points.

"I love you," she whispered, projecting it to him at the same time, and she was still trembling, but it was slowing. "More than anything."

She held his gaze as she trailed her fingers down his sides, then began to push his shorts down. He sighed when she did, and she no longer knew or cared if she was feeling it through their bond or hearing it. It was true and it had always been true, and she could feel the attraction between them, like a tide pulling them toward this, a tug she had not felt until the first moment of their first conversation. Like dipping her fingertips into the current of a river, then submerging herself entirely.

She felt him trace words she could not understand without him, using small strokes of his fingertips, against her skin, and felt in them his desire to protect her. It was illogical. He could not change what would come. She could not restore to him what he had lost, not this way.

But it was the tide, the pull between them irresistible and undeniable, and he kissed and kissed and kissed her until they were wrapped around each other, hungry and desperate, breathing each other's breath. Their lovemaking was slow, gentle and soft as their first time would have been, had they been other than they were. But it was to create life this time, and their deliberation and steadiness made sense to her.

He paused, looking into her eyes, when he first penetrated her, when he was fully sheathed between her thighs. He gently stroked against her _katra_ points with his fingertips, and she brought her hand up to do the same to his.

_Tal-kam._

She brought her thumb from his chin up to brush against his lips. _Beloved,_ she repeated.

Then he kissed her again, and she gave in to all of it, tears flooding her eyes when he thrust inside her for the first time. She rolled over with him, and then he mounted her again, and then his feet slipped off the bed and she moved with him. She was flushed and panting, intoxicated by his touch and the feel of him inside her, both his body and his mind.

It was no different. But everything felt different.

She rolled with him so she was on her back and her hips jolted as he slid into her again, the only sound her gasps for breath and whimpers when he moved within her, her inner flesh tender as she enfolded him, her orgasm cresting, quivering under her skin. His gaze met hers as she shuddered, as he spent himself, and it was no different, but everything was.

And she arched, moaning as he lowered himself to her, his forehead touching hers. She imagined what it meant as she touched his temples, the points of his ears, the warmth of him against her flushed skin. She imagined what might happen, how a part of each of them might grow within her.

And she closed her eyes, holding him, loving him.

\--

"We can't. We don't have the time."

"Stasis?"

"Given the circumstances—"

Nancy opened her eyes and bit back a scream. It came out as a sharp abbreviated cry.

She was in ship's sickbay, and it was happening again, she knew it was.

"Vulcan," she gasped out, and George Fayne's wide, dark eyes met hers. "Vulcan..."

George was clasping Nancy's hand, and Nancy writhed, shuddering as she began to curl into the fetal position. She could feel Ned even across the distance between them. Her anxiety, her fear, her grief were reaching him.

Again. They had been so hopeful this time.

"I thought you said she was sedated!" George shouted. "She's in pain!"

Nancy knew she was likely on board _Venture_ , the closest ship to what had been their assignment, but she had no memory of being transported. She had felt intense abdominal cramps and had only been able to call for George before she had collapsed.

She had only felt pain like this once in her life, and that had been when she had lost her first pregnancy. Before the first dose of sedative had taken effect, it had been worse—but barely. Now it was happening again, and Nancy felt her heart breaking, panic swelling in her chest. She hadn't been able to make it back to Vulcan during her first miscarriage, but according to the doctor who had helped her, it wouldn't have mattered. The first fetus hadn't been viable.

She had been so careful this time. She had been devastated by the first loss, and it had taken months before she and Ned had been able to bring themselves to try again and possibly put themselves through the same grief.

This was going to break Ned's heart, too. She felt so afraid, so afraid.

_Please_ , she begged, her eyes closed as she distantly heard George yelling at the doctor and nurse to get them to Vulcan, to do something, anything, to help her. _Please, please, please..._

But that was all she felt, a formless, wordless pleading. To not feel the pain, to not feel the loss, not again.

The doctors on Vulcan who had confirmed her current pregnancy, who had put her on a prescribed diet and specific medications, had been what Nancy would have called cautiously optimistic. They had examined the fetus she had lost and felt they had discovered the problems that had led to her miscarriage. And two days before, Nancy had first felt the baby she was now carrying quicken inside her—and she had wished more than anything that Ned had been with her, to feel it too. For the first time, she had felt her own cautious hope.

She had prayed that this time, she wouldn't lose the baby. Not like this.

"We won't make it to Vulcan in time," Nancy heard the doctor tell George. "She will need help faster than that. If she's put in stasis, that might harm the fetus."

George sighed. Nancy had told her how much she and Ned wanted the baby, and how the loss of their first pregnancy had affected them. it took incredible effort, but Nancy forced herself to open her eyes.

"Ned," she whispered. "Please."

"Can we make it to Starbase 226 in time?" George almost shouted, and Nancy lost consciousness again, praying that she wouldn't wake to the same news the doctors had given her last time.

When Nancy opened her eyes again, she didn't feel the throb of _Venture_ 's warp engines anymore. She was still on a biobed, and George was beside her, but the scenery had changed a little.

Leival's dark eyes were gazing into hers, and Nancy barely had time to register the pain and the nurse's fingertips brushing her _katra_ points before she was plunged into the meld. Leival's mind was so different than Ned's; Ned shared everything with her, but Leival had initiated the bond, and she had her mental shields up. Nancy was in too much pain to attempt to hide anything.

_You love him of your own free will. Without coercion._

_Yes._

_You wish to carry his child. You understand the risk._

_Yes._

When Leival released her, breaking the bond, Nancy slumped against the bed, gasping for breath. The pain felt more distant, but she was still aware of it. Because their child was half-Vulcan, they were connected, she and the baby inside her. The sedative and painkiller were light, to keep from injuring the fetus.

That was why Leival had been so cautious about their relationship, Nancy realized. Just like Bess had warned her when Ned's focus had turned to her. He had influenced her then, had married her quickly. Leival had thought that Ned's _pon farr_ had taken the decision out of Nancy's hands, had made the decision for her.

But Nancy loved him wholeheartedly, now more than ever. She didn't need saving, and now Leival understood.

Leival pressed a hypospray against Nancy's upper arm and depressed the trigger, and after a few moments, Nancy stopped feeling what she had been hoping weren't premature contractions. She took a slower breath and turned to her other side, to see George standing there, her hand still in Nancy's.

"Good to see you awake again." George smiled, but Nancy could see the anxiety in her friend's eyes. "Feeling better?"

"A little," Nancy whispered. "Thank you."

George sniffled and forced another smile. "We're at Starbase 226, but I suppose you've figured that out. I sent a communiqué to _Banner._ "

"They weren't here," Nancy whispered. Every now and then, _Banner_ moved into less inhabited space to run another series of tests. Nancy supposed her emergency had come at exactly the wrong time.

George shook her head slowly. "I'm sorry. I'm sure he'll be on the way as soon as he can, though."

Nancy nodded, trying to hide her disappointment, and squeezed George's hand before she turned back toward Leival. "I..." she began, but she found herself unable to ask the question, to say it aloud.

But Leival already knew. "I have stabilized you and the fetus," she replied, her voice brisk. "Your condition has improved. I need to consult your medical record and run some tests and scans to determine the extent and nature of the event. Try to relax."

"You don't know what happened," Nancy murmured.

"Not yet."

"So she might not be out of the woods yet," George said quietly.

Leival tilted her head at the turn of phrase. "We are doing what we can for her," she said.

Dr. Fasden checked on Nancy, and once her mind was clear enough, she discussed the assignment they had abandoned with George. Their commander was aware of Nancy's condition, and once she had been told about the medical emergency, she had sent another team to pick up where Nancy and George had left off. George had sent their case notes and transcripts via a coded channel, so at least they wouldn't need to worry about that.

Nancy was trying to relax, but she didn't feel like she could until Dr. Fasden and Leival had pronounced her out of danger and fit for duty. She wanted to see Ned again, too. She had only seen him twice since her current pregnancy had been confirmed.

She could feel it, when he was en route; she could feel it when he was on board the starbase. She couldn't have put it in words or explained, but she knew. Nancy pushed herself up in the bed, carefully, cradling her rounded belly. Leival was across the room when Ned arrived, but Nancy saw the look on the nurse's face. She was surprised that Ned had come; he could not lend any medical expertise, and his presence was illogical. Emotional.

But Nancy had called him to her.

He had a small case with him, its strap over one shoulder, and as soon as he walked into the sickbay he crossed it with long strides, finding his way to her unerringly, his gaze locked to hers. Nothing else seemed to exist for him, and when he reached her, she wrapped her arms around him and held him tight. She buried her face against his shirt and breathed him in.

_Nancy_.

As soon as he was holding her, Nancy began to cry. She was so afraid, and she hadn't wanted to hurt him, she had never wanted to hurt him. He had been panicking ever since George's communiqué had arrived; it had taken all his self-control to stay calm. But he was with her now.

And he might have arrived in time to witness her miscarriage, if Leival and Dr. Fasden couldn't figure out what was wrong.

_Shhhh_. He rubbed her back, stroked her hair. Nancy knew the contact was mostly for her benefit, but partially for his, too. He was reassured by the warm breathing feel of her in his arms.

He began to lay her down again, but Nancy couldn't release him. He bent over her, and when he brought his hand down to touch her belly, she let out a sob.

Leival approached and the two of them spoke quietly, in Vulcan, but Nancy picked up on enough of it. Ned touched Nancy's _katra_ points, initiating a meld that made her tense even more, then begin to relax. She touched his face, closing her wet eyes, concentrating on the beating of her own heart.

Then he splayed his fingers over her belly, concentrating on their child, and Nancy understood what Leival had asked him to do. Ned was deeply aware of himself, his own physiology, his own body. He was in tune enough to diagnose himself, in some cases. Nancy, though, was not, could not. She could recognize certain conditions in herself—caffeine withdrawal, low blood sugar, sleep deprivation, dehydration—but that wasn't what was happening here.

In the meld, he helped her slow, to release her grip on the anxiety inside her. The baby was stabilized. For now, she was all right.

Ned took a long deep breath and pulled back slightly, speaking to Leival in Vulcan again. His voice was calm and even. But he was still connected to Nancy, and her lips moved along with his. He was telling Leival that Nancy's body had begun to metabolize a hormonal supplement before it could reach the baby; the Vulcan physicians hadn't known that could happen. Once that hormonal replacement had failed, fetal development had begun to suffer, but it had been recent.

Nancy opened her eyes to look into Ned's once Leival had moved away, gathering what she would need to address the problem and discussing it with Dr. Fasden. A triple dose would work as a short-term solution, and it would take at least twelve hours for them to synthesize a suitable replacement. Nancy understood that because Ned did, because their minds were still joined. Her panic, though, was being held at bay by his strength alone.

_This might be painful for you_ , he projected to her, and brought his other hand up to stroke her hair. _I will do everything I can for you._

She gave him a small smile. _You already have. You're here. I was so afraid. I am so afraid._

Ned stayed in physical contact with her, but she felt him when he began to release the bond holding them together. It took effort, but she did her best to calm herself down, knowing that he was there and he would make sure nothing happened to her. Two orderlies came over to move Nancy to an anti-grav cart, and George reentered sickbay when they were still in the process. She crossed to Nancy, greeting Ned with a nod.

"Anything new?"

"They know what's wrong now," Nancy replied softly. "They're trying to fix it."

George and Ned followed as the orderlies transported Nancy to a private room right next to sickbay; it was small, usually meant for quarantine, but Dr. Fasden wanted Nancy close to sickbay in case her condition destabilized. They moved her to the bed in the room and Ned opened the bag at his side, pulling out a folded blanket.

It was the blanket her stepmother had made for her and sent to her after their Christmas visit.

Everything that didn't fit into the case that contained Nancy's life stayed with her husband. Clothing she wouldn't normally wear during investigations, small keepsakes, the life that she shared with him was with him on _Banner_. The blanket stayed with Ned too, but it was hers. The yarn was dark gray, pale blue, and cream, and it was a reminder of home. Edith had made a blanket for Ned as well; his was a solid dark blue, and Ned kept it on his bed, the bed Nancy shared with him.

Once she was settled in the private room and the monitors were all set and calibrated, along with the medication delivery system that was keeping her hydrated and stable, Ned spread the blanket over her, and Nancy grasped a corner of it in her fist.

Edith had contacted Nancy with her sincere sympathy after she had lost her first pregnancy, and Nancy had opened up to her about it. Nancy wouldn't call them good friends, but it felt like a truce had been struck.

When Leival came in with a prepared hypospray, the orderlies went back to sickbay with the antigrav cart, and George bid Nancy a quiet farewell, promising she would be back to see her in the "morning." Once she had departed, Dr. Fasden joined them.

"Lieutenant Commander," he said quietly. "Leival and I have analyzed the test results and scans. Tonight we're going to give you a triple dose of hormone supplement, to make up for what your body had begun to metabolize instead of passing on to the fetus. Tomorrow we'll try a synthesized replacement. However..."

Ned, who was seated on the bed beside her, laced his fingers through Nancy's. She squeezed gently, focusing on the calm he was projecting instead of giving in to the panic.

"However, that deficiency has caused some damage to the fetus. It's minor right now, but we need to correct it. Tomorrow we'll ascertain how your physiology and the fetus's responds to the new hormone. The day after, if the replacement was successful, we will need to perform microsurgery on the fetus."

Nancy's grip tightened on Ned's hand. "Surgery," she whispered, and her eyes flooded with tears again.

Dr. Fasden nodded. "It's relatively minor surgery, but this situation is too delicate for us to take any chances."

Nancy nodded, trying to swallow the lump of tears still in her throat. "And if the hormone replacement and surgery are successful?"

Dr. Fasden smiled. "I have every hope they will be. We will monitor you and the fetus afterward, but in the best-case scenario, you will be fully stable and discharged in five days."

Ned nodded. "I need to contact my ship," he said quietly, and Nancy felt him begin to release her. "I will be quick. Please wait to administer the dosage until I have returned."

He expected it to hurt her, and he didn't want her to be alone.

She took a deep breath when Ned was out of sight; she knew that they had put her on sedatives and mood stabilizers, but when he wasn't with her, her panic returned triplefold. "What is the risk to the baby?"

"Overall, or during a specific treatment?" Leival was adjusting the hypospray dosage.

"Either."

Dr. Fasden took a step forward. "Without all three—tonight's dose, the hormone replacement, and the surgery—a spontaneous miscarriage is very likely. As it is, I know I'm not your primary physician for your pregnancy, but I would highly recommend that you spend at least the last three weeks before your projected due date on Vulcan. Given the risk of premature labor and all possible complications, that would be the safest place for you."

Nancy nodded. "And if all three treatments are successful? Has permanent damage already been done?"

Dr. Fasden shook his head. "If your trip here had taken longer, your case would be much more delicate. The fetus's development, though, was proceeding as well as it could under the circumstances. Your baby should be perfectly healthy, barring any more unforeseen events."

That was what troubled Nancy. No one had expected her to react this way to the hormonal supplements. She had no idea if something else might happen, or if it would be as time-sensitive as this.

Ned returned a moment later and sat down beside her. She could feel her fingers trembling. She felt like a part of her was going into shock, screaming in fear and pain.

Then he touched her cheek, murmuring the words, and a tear slipped down her cheek as he joined to her again, more easily this time. He slid down onto the bed with her, beside her, and she looped an arm around him as he gently embraced her.

She couldn't help it. She winced when Leival pressed the hypospray against her upper arm and depressed it. At first it felt uncomfortably warm; then she felt the baby move inside her, and she almost sobbed, until Ned began to gently stroke her belly.

"Shhh," he whispered. "Shhhhh. Be calm. Be calm, _tal-kam._ "

She held him tighter, trembling as she tried to relax. With a quiet sob she turned her face toward Ned, nuzzling against him, trying to focus on him instead of her anxiety.

"The readout from your bed is monitored in sickbay," Leival told Nancy, and she only understood what the nurse was saying because Ned did. "We will watch your levels. If the pain rises above your tolerance, use the comm channel. A healing trance might help," she added, more for Ned than for Nancy.

Once the doctor and nurse had left them alone so they could have privacy, Nancy began to sob quietly. Ned's lips touched her cheek.

_Be calm. Be calm. It will help. Center yourself. Your fear is making the pain worse._

She was resisting it, but she let him draw her in to him. It felt like free-falling. Her blood felt like it was boiling in her veins.

She was losing their baby again. She knew it, despite the doctor's reassurance, and her heart was broken.

He kissed her cheek, then each _katra_ point in turn. She felt him drawing her deeper, away from the pain and the fear, away from the feeling that she had failed and hurt him, that she would never be able to do this for him.

The baby had quickened inside her. Ned could feel its mind, and through the bond, so could she. It could feel her fear, and that fear was putting a strain on its system.

She relaxed into Ned, and it was like the water closing over her head, taking a lungful of the water around her, letting herself drown. He filled her; he was inside her, and she was in him. And she didn't want their child's first, possibly only, experience to be one of fear.

_You would no longer be in danger if Dr. Fasden terminated the pregnancy._

_I am in danger now._ She had known since the pregnancy was confirmed. There was no accusation in her words.

_Their projection was optimistic. There is a thirty-seven-point-five-two percent chance that these efforts will result in permanent damage to your circulatory and reproductive systems. There is also a sixty-seven-point-three-nine percent chance that the supplementary hormone treatment will fail again before your pregnancy has come to term. It is logical for your pregnancy to be monitored more frequently._

_Temporary reassignment to Vulcan._

_Perhaps._ He kissed her forehead. _You would no longer be in danger if you terminate the pregnancy._

_The baby is alive. I feel it inside me. It is our child._

_I cannot lose you._

Nancy opened her eyes to see his own dark eyes shining with unshed tears.

He stayed close to her the entire night, leaving her only when he had to. He changed into a pair of shorts and laid down beside her to rest in the dark, and she curled up with him, facing him, their child between them. The afghan Edith had given her was draped over them, and even though the hormone treatment still felt like it sizzled in her veins, she was almost trembling with cold.

He held her to him, and when the pain came over her in waves that left her gasping, he touched her cheek, touched his forehead to hers, and it felt like falling into perfect black.

In the morning, when the treatment had begun to wear off and her pain had lessened, he released her from the trance and Nancy drew the first deep breath in what felt like hours. Her limbs felt stiff, but at least she was finally warm, not burning, not shaking from chills. Together they recentered, and she felt almost as though she was recovering from an injury. All of her seemed to be intact, but she still felt a little nervous.

She opened her eyes and reached up to stroke his cheek. "Go have breakfast with George," she whispered. "Relax for a little while. You look exhausted."

He didn't want to leave her, but she insisted, asking him to help her fall asleep before he left. Before he released her from the meld, she let him draw her into a state of relaxation.

She understood. She did, because she had seen all of him, had shared all of herself with him. He was so afraid that he would lose her.

But their baby had quickened inside her; its mind was still inchoate, nascent, but forming. If the treatment worked... the treatment had to work. It had to.

The last thing she did before letting herself drift away was slip her palm up to rest on her belly. _I love you, little one_ , she thought. _Please don't go yet._

\--

A full month before her due date, Nancy was en route to Vulcan.

The treatment and surgery at Starbase 226 had been successful; Ned's prediction had proven accurate as well. He had stayed with her at Starbase 226 until her condition was stabilized and she was cleared for active duty again; then she had told him to return to _Banner_ , and she had departed with George for their next assignment.

Two months after that treatment, the new cocktail of hormone supplements failed again. Thankfully, since Dr. Fasden had put a note in her file regarding her previous treatment and what to do in the most likely scenario, she had been back to normal a day later.

Now, though, she was miserable and looking forward to her due date. Their daughter's growth and development had proceeded well despite the complications, and Nancy was uncomfortable and not looking forward to her assignment of bed rest. Ned had sent her blanket to Vulcan for her, and would be joining her in a week, if all went well.

An entire week on Vulcan without her husband.

She had sent word to her relatives on Earth as soon as the doctor had given her the news, and a few hours before _Pasteur_ entered standard orbit around Vulcan, she received word that her father and stepmother were en route. She was carrying their first grandchild, after all, and while her pregnancy hadn't been easy, at least now she was in the home stretch. Even if she went into labor the next day, their daughter would be able to survive, given the right treatment and environment.

George told Nancy to keep her updated via subspace so she could take a day or two of leave to come see them. Bess sent word that she, Barin, and baby Ilara were en route. Nancy felt a little self-conscious about it all, and the one person she knew she wanted by her side was her husband.

Given her condition, _Pasteur_ sent her to the planet's surface in a shuttlecraft that touched down on the roof of the medical complex in the capital. She was escorted inside by physicians who were already aware of the unique challenges of her pregnancy and her child's heritage, and though she was moving rather slowly, she couldn't help noticing that on Vulcan, an expectant mother who could barely move under her own power _still_ wasn't given the anti-grav transportation she would have been given on Earth.

Nancy had to smile when she walked into her assigned room and saw a package on the bed addressed to her. Inside she found the blanket and a genuine handwritten note, something so rare that she actually marveled at it before reading it.

_I will join you soon, tal-kam._

She smiled again. It would be acceptable for him to call her _beloved_. He could not tell her he loved her unless it was between the two of them, alone. She had heard him speak the words aloud only rarely, but each time had meant so much to her.

Her biobed was slightly uncomfortable, but she wasn't surprised. Nancy steeled herself as she settled into it, remembering her previous visits to Vulcan. Vulcan physicians were less talkative, less considerate; they were accustomed to treating Vulcan patients, and their lack of empathy or understanding had made her feel entirely alone and almost invisible during her last visit. Her emotional state was her own concern; they cared only for the state of her body, and she knew that Ned's attitude wasn't unique among them. Her life was assumed to be more important than the child's, unless she said otherwise—and even then, Nancy knew the attitude was that she was irrational, illogical, and borderline incapable of making her own decisions. Once Ned was there, he would be able to argue her case far more effectively than she would. In the meantime, Bess and Barin might be able to help do the same.

Late that night, once dark had fallen, Nancy felt frustrated and incredibly alone. She was bored; computerized games of cards and chance were no longer enough to distract her, and it seemed that every other moment she was smoothing her palm in a gentle circle over her swelled belly, breathing another prayer that their child would be born safe and whole and healthy, that she herself would survive the birth without lasting consequences.

She was just looking out the window, toward T'Khut, when she heard a soft shoe-sole scrape against the floor. When she turned back, she saw a tall man with dark hair and dark eyes entering her room, a thin computerized tablet in his hand, wearing medical insignia.

"Lieutenant Commander Drew."

"Yes," she said.

"Has your discomfort level changed?"

She shook her head. "It's the same as it was this morning."

Then she took a closer look at him, and her heart began to beat faster. Since most Vulcans had similar coloring and hair, she hadn't recognized him immediately; in fact, she had never met him. But, once she looked at his face, she knew. Then he looked up at her, briefly, and she swallowed hard.

_"Ne'shau, sa'mekh t'nash-veh adun."_

She said the words slowly; she had never said them before, save "husband." To his credit, or not, she recognized only the faintest twitch of his eyebrows when she greeted him as her father-in-law. He looked back down at the tablet he carried. Then he looked back at her one last time before he walked out of the room.

Nancy closed her eyes, her palm resting on her belly. She was certain that she hadn't ever seen Ned's father until a few minutes ago. He wasn't on the team of physicians who were monitoring her pregnancy.

But she knew that Ned's family name was on her file, and certainly Ned's father had been told that she was on the planet. He had come to see her out of curiosity, and without any intention of introducing himself to her.

Ned had resigned himself to being estranged from his family, and Nancy knew that his parents were just as proud as he was—and that his mother would likely be no more sympathetic than his father. Still, she couldn't abandon the idea just yet.

Given Bess's Starfleet connections and her personality, Nancy was unsurprised when Bess, Barin, and Ilara were her first visitors, two days later. Bess breezed into Nancy's hospital room wearing a long, elaborate dress embellished with thousands of tiny tassels, each a gradient of color; she looked like the embodiment of sunshine. Barin was carrying Ilara, a chubby dark-eyed infant with hair like her mother's. Nancy had to smile when she saw that Ilara wore a dress much like her mother's, too.

"This planet is like a cold bath," Bess announced, sweeping in to give Nancy a kiss on the cheek. "Challenging and invigorating. Hello, darling. You seem to be holding up well, given the circumstances."

A dark-haired, dark-eyed Vulcan orderly followed Bess's family in. "I insist that you leave," he said, his voice even; Nancy had known Ned long enough to detect a hint of exasperation in his tone, and Bess bestowed a gentle, condescending smile on him.

"Adherence to regulations can be stifling, pet. Besides, I'm here on Starfleet business. I promise I won't overstay my welcome."

Barin lifted Ilara's hand and they gave her a little wave. Ilara's wide, dark eyes were fixed on Nancy's distended abdomen.

"No, she can't read minds yet. A little nascent empathic ability, but that's normal," Bess answered Nancy's unspoken question. "You're right—but we're already so open and honest that it makes adolescence far more awkward than worrying about an outbreak of acne or an untucked shirt. My first clear reading was finding out that a boy in my class had entertained rather lurid and entertainingly inaccurate fantasies about me."

"Love," Barin said gently.

The orderly had given up, leaving Nancy's visitors in her room, and Nancy couldn't help laughing. "It's good to see you, Bess," Nancy chuckled. "Having you here really is like sunshine."

Bess grinned. "And what is this I'm sensing about your father-in-law?"

Nancy's grin became a smile. "First... can you sense my baby?"

Bess and Barin exchanged a glance, and then Bess took a step closer to Nancy. "Yes," she said softly. "She's strong. Very much like both her parents."

"But more like Ned, I'm sure."

Bess wrinkled her nose a little. "Well, there's no doubting her heritage—on either side. She won't be quite so alien as you fear, Nancy. And she knows you're her mother. Nothing will change that."

Nancy found that she had unconsciously moved her hand to her belly again. "Ned's father came to see me the first night after my arrival," she said. "He had no reason to do it that I know, and I haven't seen him since; he probably thought I wouldn't know it was him. He works here, and Ned will be arriving in about four days..."

"And you wish to engineer a reconciliation," Barin put in, his voice quieter than Bess's.

Nancy looked between Bess and Barin, a tentative smile on her face. "I don't know if it's possible," she said softly. "Or if I'm even the person to do it. But I can't help trying."

Bess gave Nancy's belly a soft reassuring pat. "Wait right here," she said. "I'll be right back."

Barin took a seat beside Nancy's hospital bed, lightly bouncing Ilara on his knee. "Daddy," she whispered. Her wide eyes were still focused on Nancy's belly.

"Ilara, this is Nancy. Nancy Drew. She has a baby growing inside her. That's why her belly is so big, why she's here."

Ilara nodded, satisfied, then made a grabbing gesture. Barin was carrying a bag over his shoulder, and he reached into it for a small stuffed animal Nancy didn't recognize and handed it to Ilara. "So Bess is very excited about Ilara being almost old enough to go to school," he told Nancy, his voice even and calm. "She's very eager to rejoin you and Lieutenant Fayne on another one of your 'adventures.'"

Nancy smiled. "We'd be happy to have her," she said. "Well, George might pretend she's less so, but she makes a point to tell me that any exotic outfit we see on board a starbase looks like something Bess might wear."

Barin smiled. "I'm sorry you're so afraid," he told Nancy softly. "Bess will do what she can, but Ned's arrival will help a lot, I sense."

Nancy nodded. "I know that he would do anything he could for us... but I wish he was here. I know it wouldn't change anything, but I feel so much better when he's with me."

When Bess returned to Nancy's room, she was optimistic that she would be able to, if not achieve Nancy's goal, at least make some progress on it. She had ascertained that Ned's father would be back later that night, and she planned to be visiting Nancy at the time in case he happened by.

Nancy was beginning to feel the strain of her pregnancy more than she had. She had learned that the biobed made specific noises when her medications and dosages had changed, and when she began to feel worse, heavy and faint and anxious, her medications often seemed to change accordingly, making her drowsy and more relaxed. Hospital staff came in with every shift change to check her status, but they were brisk and efficient, and seemed disinclined to tell Nancy anything. It was as though they had forgotten that she had no way to analyze her physical status, not the way they did. Or, she wondered, it could be that they simply didn't care. She knew she was in the best possible location for her daughter's birth, and that apparently should have been enough.

Nancy's father and stepmother arrived on Vulcan four days after Nancy did, and Nancy still hadn't had a chance to have a conversation with Ned's father, but her medication was making her less concerned about it. When Nancy had first arrived, her hospital room had been stark and functional, with no adornment. Bess had fixed that, though. She had bought three potted plants and synthesized a Betazoid Muktok plant and placed it near Nancy's bed. When Nancy felt up to it, she shook one of the soft fuzzy bulbs, and smiled when it made a soft jingling sound.

Edith had a soft canvas bag over her shoulder, and she smiled as soon as she saw Nancy. Nancy's father stepped forward first, and wrapped her in a long warm hug.

"It's so good to see you, Nancy."

"Hey Dad," she said softly, smiling at him. She knew she missed him, but she felt it most at times like this. "Thanks for coming."

"You know I'm always here for you. I would never have missed this."

She knew that he was always there for her; it had just been a long time since she had taken advantage of his support and his presence in her life. She gave him another smile, and then Edith stepped forward.

"It's good to see you too," Nancy said, more slowly, feeling the awkwardness behind the words. Edith still stepped forward to give her a hug, though, and then looked down at the afghan covering Nancy, a smile on her face.

"How are you feeling?"

Nancy shook her head. "Okay," she murmured. "I feel like I'm floating."

Edith laid the back of her fingers on Nancy's temple. "Do we still have time? I'm making a receiving blanket, but it's not quite finished yet."

"She's been working hard on it, too," Nancy's father said.

Bess came in with Ilara propped on her hip, then. That day's outfit was peach and rose, long and flowing, and Bess's hair was up in a sleek elegant twist. "Oooh, hello! So nice to meet you, Carson and Edith."

"Bess is Betazoid," Nancy told her father and Edith. "And she's reading your minds right now," she added, before she could change her mind.

Bess's grin only grew more broad. "It's true. And it's all right. I'll try not to embarrass you _too_ much."

Nancy hadn't told her father or Edith anything false about her first meeting with Ned, but she hoped that Bess wouldn't share any of the more unique details. She was feeling a little nervous about it, but that nervousness had no urgency. She wasn't feeling much urgency about anything.

Distantly she knew the pain had increased, but she wasn't really feeling it. She knew it by the deliberation of her movements; she could feel a weightless shadow on her. It was easier to just listen to the conversation between her father and Edith, and Bess and Bess's family, without participating. Edith and Carson both held and talked to Ilara, who had her mother's same general air of composure and sassiness. Nancy supposed it was thanks to her empathic ability. She knew what the adults around her wanted, and she laughed and clapped her hands, cuddling up against Edith. Carson laughed when Ilara gave him a kiss on the cheek.

An orderly called Carson and Edith out of the room soon after. Carson returned; Edith returned later, saying she had visited the hospital's refreshment area and returned with a mug of Vulcan tea. Nancy saw something in her eyes, though, and she was afraid to know what it meant.

When she saw Edith rub the inside of one elbow, she felt even more afraid.

She wanted Ned. Ned wouldn't lie to her about what was going on, because he couldn't. She wouldn't even have to find the nerve to ask him. She knew that if she asked any of the doctors or nurses specific questions about her condition, they would answer—but she couldn't bring herself to ask.

The baby would be okay. She had to believe the baby would be okay. But she wondered whether she would be, after.

The only times Nancy left her bed were to visit the restroom or to take a short walk around the room, just to stretch her legs. When she rose, the constant stream of medication was stopped, and she began to feel heavy, aching, anxious.

Bess, Barin, and Ilara had returned to their temporary room for the night. Her father and Edith, tired from the long day of travel, had left for their own accommodations, and would be back in the morning.

She had received a message from Ned. He was en route; he expected to be on Vulcan in forty-eight hours.

It wasn't soon enough. Somehow the news that he was on his way, that their time apart would soon be over, just made her even more desperate to see him again. She cradled her belly, shuffling from the bed to the window, to look up into the dark starlit sky, the orb of T'Khut.

_Come to me, please, come to me._

Despite her anxiety, Nancy had to smile. It reminded her of the strange intoxicating attraction they had felt during his _pon farr_ , the wordless pleading, the hunger she had felt for him in return. She wanted to feel his arms around her again. She wanted to open her eyes without feeling the shadowy weight of painkillers behind them.

She didn't hear the door open, but she brought her head up. He was standing there again, and for a second she wondered if he was responding to the call she had projected to Ned—and then she realized that was very likely, and blushed. Bess was completely open and unselfconscious about her telepathy, Barin only slightly less so. To the Vulcans around her, that ability was far more private.

"Please," Nancy murmured.

The tall man took a step into the room. "Do you require assistance to return to the biobed?"

Grateful for the chance, Nancy nodded, cradling her belly. He stepped toward her, placing his tablet on a low table before he began to help her. Movement was awkward with the additional weight and bulk of her belly, and she sighed in relief once she was back in bed.

Then, before she could let her anxiety stop her, she reached for his hand, and he looked into her face, his own impassive.

_Please,_ she projected to him. _Please don't blame Ned. If there was any fault, it wasn't his. He put himself in solitary quarters; he did not intend to take me as his mate. I feared that something had happened to him, and I didn't understand the circumstances, and I broke his confinement. By the time I knew what had happened, he had already touched me, and it was too late. I'm the one at fault. But our baby, your granddaughter—the circumstance of her birth is not her fault either. Please. Please don't keep blaming him for this._

Nancy's ability to read thoughts and emotions extended only to Ned, only in the intimacy of their mental bond; her projecting to anyone else was like shouting into the dark, without knowing if anyone else could hear. His expression didn't change. She felt no reaction from him, but she didn't expect to, and she wished that Bess had still been there. But then Bess wouldn't necessarily have been as much help, either. Vulcans were able to shield their thoughts and emotions, even from Betazoids.

He released her hand, went over to pick up the tablet, and left her room. Nancy sniffled, then swiped a hand over her face to wipe away her sudden tears. She had already been feeling hormonal, and a part of her hoped that he could and would pick up on her pain and be persuaded by it.

When Ned arrived two days later, just ahead of schedule, Nancy was sure that something had gone wrong, but only because she was rarely awake. Sometimes she was dimly aware that she had been taken from the room for additional scans and tests; sometimes she woke and knew that twelve hours had passed without her feeling it. She wasn't even awake when he arrived, but she sensed it, and struggled her way back to consciousness.

And he was there, just as she had known he would be. He was seated beside her bed, and her father and Edith and Bess were there too. Bess was rising when Nancy turned that way, blinking.

_Tal-kam._ Ned's eyes were shining as he looked down at her, her hand clasped in his.

"Hey," Nancy said. Her voice was soft and slow; she felt like she had slept for a month. "Ned..."

He touched her cheek, and didn't look away from her. She felt like she couldn't look away from him, like he would vanish if she did.

Bess moved beside Ned and touched Nancy's knee, through the afghan. "Honey, I'm going to send word for George to come to Vulcan, all right?"

Nancy nodded, but her gaze was still locked to Ned's. _Something has happened, hasn't it._

To anyone else, to her parents, Ned was just staring at her with a fierce frown on his face. To Nancy, who knew him almost as well as she knew himself, there was no doubt. He was staring at her like she was the illusion.

_If they can't stabilize you, they will perform surgery in a few days to deliver the baby._

_It's too soon._ Nancy's eyes began to prick with tears, her nose and throat to swell with them, and she felt them fall without bothering to wipe them away. _Ned, it's too soon. Please._

Ned took a deep breath. She remembered that almost strained, pinched expression when he had been with her on Starbase 226, when only his strength had kept her from going into shock from the pain.

_Please_.

The meld was private. Her father and stepmother were still present.

"I will return in a moment," Ned said, then looked over at her parents. _Be calm, tal-kam. Be calm._

Once Ned had left the room, Nancy looked over at Edith and her father. "I need to be alone with him for just a little while," she said, and her voice was still shaky. "I'm sorry. Could you come back in a few hours?"

"Of course," Edith said, and came over to the bed. Her own eyes were gleaming faintly, and she gave Nancy's hand a squeeze. "Take all the time you need. We'll be back later, honey."

"I love you," her father told her when he hugged her. "We'll be back soon."

When Ned came back in, Nancy was alone and crying steadily. He and an orderly adjusted her bed, and then Ned moved onto it, looking down into her face. He looked like his father, so much like his father. And once he melded with her, he would know what she had done.

She didn't want to take it back. She wouldn't have.

"Shh," he whispered, stroking her hair from her wet cheeks. "Don't cry. Shh."

Nancy reached up and touched his cheek, and he closed his eyes when she brushed against his _katra_ points. He leaned down and kissed her very gently before he touched her cheek the same way.

"My mind to your mind," he whispered, and she felt his eyelashes brush her cheek. "My thoughts to your thoughts."

He slid down so he was on his side and she cuddled against him, finally taking a long slow breath once they were in contact. His influence and the medication meant that even though she knew what he knew, her panic was muffled.

The doctor had told Ned that Nancy was growing weak under the strain. Edith had donated blood to give her; when George arrived, they would probably ask her for a donation as well. Their daughter would need care, but she would survive if they delivered her tomorrow or the following day, or after. Nancy would already need surgery to repair the strain she was under; delaying meant more damage that would have to be undone.

_I told you. I cannot lose you._

And he knew. She had spoken to his father.

_What you have given me is more than I have ever expected. You are strong, tal-kam, and I love you with all my heart. Let them do this so you both may live. You are both strong, and I don't wish for her to grow up having never known you._

Another pair of tears slipped down her cheeks. _I'm bleeding._

_And synthetic blood is keeping you alive._ He stroked her cheek. _You weaken, love. I would have them deliver our baby tonight. I would have hastened my trip if I had been aware of the danger you were in._

She could die. The knowledge didn't come as a surprise to her. A part of her felt she had known it for days, even since her miscarriage and the near-miscarriage she had experienced later.

_I don't want to leave you._

_I'll have them do it as soon as they can._

Nancy opened her eyes and looked into his. "I love you," she whispered. "I love both of you. Stay with me."

"Stay with me," Ned replied. "Please stay with me."

\--

Ned knew the protests, before he asked. He knew the probabilities because he could calculate them himself. The child had a eighty-two-point-seven-one percent chance of needing at least three medical procedures at birth, if Nancy were to go into labor that second. The risk to the child's life was low, but she would require augmentation.

The risk to Nancy's life, though, was real. He had calculated it at twenty-three-point-nine-four, that the shock, her low blood pressure and blood loss, and the stress that her hormonal supplements had put on her would result in death. If delivery were delayed twelve hours, her risk rose two points; twenty-four hours, six points.

He approached the physician in charge of Nancy's case, and was given the justification that he had expected. Their calculations reached a balance. They weighed the probability of the mother's mortality against the health of the unborn child, and waited until the risk to the mother's life was just below the acceptable threshold. But their threshold didn't match Ned's.

"Her life is more important," Ned said, his voice calm and even, almost clipped. His mental shields were up. He could feel every second passing and knew that it made her weaker, but he could not betray that. "Please deliver the child tonight."

The physician studied him for a moment. "I will consult," he replied. "And make a decision."

"I will be in her room."

He returned to her, already considering the alternatives, unsurprised to find that he had already calculated odds. He could draw her into a healing trance and try to induce her labor; then the decision would be easier for medical staff to make. But that would be worse for her.

When he walked back into Nancy's room, she struggled back to consciousness, her eyes hazed but afraid. Ned sat down on the other side of the bed, then stroked her cheek.

"Soon?"

"I believe so." He tried to force a reassuring smile, but he couldn't.

When he had been young, he had imagined following his parents into their fields; in comparison to a Terran lifespan, a Vulcan could live two or three lifetimes. He had studied his father's medical texts as a child, and it had come easily to him. Under other circumstances, he could have been the physician monitoring Nancy's pregnancy. He had observed his mother at work and considered emulating her work.

Starfleet definitely had not been their choice for him. They had imagined him walking these halls or halls very similar. They had imagined him making discoveries and researching on Vulcan, for Vulcan. And he had researched and made discoveries, but not the way they had wanted.

An hour passed. Ned joined to her again, unable to resist the impulse to provide her with whatever comfort he could. She buried her face against the side of his leg and slowly he helped her relax, until the tears stopped. Once she was unconscious and resting, he slowly released her and felt the medication level in her system rise to compensate.

Edith tapped on the door, and Ned glanced up at her as she peeked into the room. "Do I need to leave? I can come back. We both can."

"You may enter," he murmured. "She is resting."

Edith came in and approached the bed, her gaze apprehensive. "Is she any better?"

"Her condition is essentially unchanged."

Ned stroked his wife's cheek, and Edith took a breath. "I'm sorry," she murmured.

Ned kept his gaze on Nancy's face. "It is almost unfathomable," he murmured. "She is strong, but this body is so fragile, and to know that I am the instrument of her pain is..." He couldn't finish.

"You aren't," Edith said. "Don't think of it that way."

Nancy's father walked in, wearing the same stricken expression Ned felt. "Is she okay?"

"She is the same. I've asked them to deliver the baby tonight, or as soon as possible."

"So she's in danger." Carson exchanged a glance with Edith. When the physician had asked them to donate blood, they had suspected.

"Yes." Ned looked down at her again before he said it.

When a physician entered half an hour later and said they were preparing for the delivery, Ned said he would accompany her. He left her just to wash and dress in the appropriate clothing, and when he returned she had already been taken to a surgical room and placed in a sterile field.

He touched her cheek, speaking the words only in the privacy of his own head, and reached her. She had been treated to better manage the pain, and the sedation was wearing off, leaving only the analgesic to block her pain.

Her face was pale, her eyes a startling blue, and he didn't want his last view of her to be this way. He wanted to remember her as she had been before he had done this to her.

_No. Ned, please._

Their daughter would have a lifespan closer to Ned's than Nancy's. She would be a piece of her mother, and Nancy loved her so much. Even if Nancy didn't survive, Ned wouldn't be alone. She didn't want him to be alone.

Ned felt his throat thicken. _I will love you better, knowing that I will not be able to love you long._

She blinked up at him. _Never doubt that I love you, Ned. Never. For always._

A human doctor spending a residency on Vulcan was assisting. She was monitoring Nancy's vital signs and blood chemistry, focusing on her while the Vulcan doctors worked on delivering the child. Ned could feel the way his wife's body was responding to the strain, and a few times she came dangerously close to losing consciousness.

Ned was aware of every second as it passed. She closed her eyes and he closed his, too. The doctors spoke to each other in their flat clinical voices, and Ned listened without concentrating. He was with her, and she had reached a state of calm, knowing that their daughter was likely to survive. She didn't want to die. She wanted to stay with him.

So much of his life was ahead of him, and knowing that the pregnancy might shorten her life was unforgivable.

_Sehra._

They had considered naming their daughter after Nancy's deceased mother, after Ned's mother, after other people who had influenced their lives. They had settled on Sehra, which in Nancy's projected voice was pronounced like Sarah. It meant princess, royalty.

And Ned did love his daughter; he couldn't not love her. But he cherished both his wife and his daughter, and to lose Nancy would have devastated him.

Once they had delivered Sehra, a nurse wrapped her in a blanket and carried her to a corner of the room to clean off the amniotic fluid and lower her into the incubator. Ned saw a head of sparse dark hair, a green tinge beneath his daughter's flushed skin. Two of the physicians went to the incubator to check on her and determine what treatment she would need. The human physician and one of the Vulcan physicians began to treat Nancy.

Nancy relaxed, succumbing to exhaustion. _She is all right._

_She is._

_I love you._

_And I love you._

When she had lost consciousness, one of the physicians who had been ministering to Sehra came over to Ned. "You may see her, if you wish."

Releasing Nancy took actual effort, but she was relaxing, and it was beyond Ned's control. Slowly he rose, then crossed to the incubator.

Sehra blinked up at him from the enclosed biobed, warmed to raise her core temperature, providing her with oxygen for her almost-developed lungs. Her wide eyes were the same blue as Nancy's.

Ned placed his hand on the edge of the bed for a moment before they took her away. His face was impassive, but he looked down at the band circling his left ring finger.

He had never in his life felt more desperate.

_Don't leave me yet. Please, love, don't leave me yet._

\--

Ned spent his days and nights in the hospital, resting beside his wife, holding his daughter. To repair some of the damage that had been done to Nancy's body, she was placed in a coma. Her father and stepmother and George spoke to her; Bess was able to sense her friend's thoughts, and reassured them that she wasn't hurting, that she was peaceful and recovering.

Once Sehra had made significant improvement, the nurse put her incubator in the corner of Nancy's hospital room, and she was only wheeled out for her checkups and tests. She could be taken from her bed for only ten or fifteen minutes at a time, and during those times Ned held her or placed her near Nancy. When her baby was nearby, Ned was able to feel Nancy responding.

Sehra was perfect. She was beautiful.

That night, one of the nurses took Sehra for another round of tests. Ned was loath to leave Nancy's side, but he needed to stretch his legs and let Nancy's parents have some time with her. His steps took him to the neonatal unit, just down the hall from Nancy's room.

He found Sehra, in her incubator, in a room with a few other babies. But he also saw a figure standing beside the incubator, a tall dark-haired man, a man Ned had not seen in some time.

Ned stepped into the room, and his father turned to face him. Sehra was gazing up at her grandfather, one fist clenched.

For a moment the two men stood arrested, just looking at each other. Ned knew what his wife had done. He knew that Nancy wanted almost nothing more than to reconcile him to his family.

"You will take her with you, when you return to your ship."

His father's voice was even, a little clipped.

"I will," Ned confirmed. "She will stay with me."

Ned's father looked down at Sehra again, then took a step toward Ned. Ned could see the faintest sign of uneasiness in his father's face, but only through years of practice. It had been easier for him when he had never known Nancy, before he had seen his granddaughter.

"The next time my ship is near Vulcan," Ned said, keeping his own voice just as even, "I could bring Sehra for a visit. We could. If we would be welcomed."

"That is, of course, your prerogative," his father replied, then paused. "If you wish it."

"Tell Mother," Ned said, and raised his hand, splitting his fingers into the traditional greeting and farewell. "May you both live long and prosper."

"Peace and long life," his father replied, giving Ned the same salute. Their gazes met for a moment before he left.

\--

Nancy woke with only the vaguest memories of the previous few days. She remembered being prepared for surgery; she remembered knowing that her daughter had been born alive and okay.

When she opened her eyes, her bed was surrounded by people, all of them gazing down at her. Her husband was holding her hand, and she squeezed his. Her father was at her other side, with Edith and George standing beside him. Bess and Barin stood beside Ned.

"Hi, sleepyhead," her father said with a smile, and Nancy saw genuine relief in his eyes. "It's nice to see you awake again."

Nancy yawned. "Hey," she croaked out, and Ned reached for a glass of water at her bedside. She knew the biobed had kept her hydrated, but her mouth still felt dry. Her body—her body felt different, too. She felt like she had been hit by a truck and was well on her way to recovery, but that lingering ache still remained. "Hey, everyone. Wow... hey, George."

George gave her a broad smile. "Hey, Commander. Good to see you awake."

Nancy glanced up at Ned, and he immediately released her hand, returning to her side a moment later with a small, squirming bundle in his arms. Nancy spotted a head of dark hair.

"Oh," Nancy said softly, and then Sehra was in her arms, blinking slowly as she gazed up at her. "Oh..."

Nancy couldn't help it. She gently opened the blanket and looked down at the small squirming body of her daughter, counting her fingers and toes, gently touching her side and feeling the warmth of her skin. Her eyes were a deep blue, her hair dark. Nancy gently traced the pointed tips of her ears.

"Oh, sweetheart," she said softly, and stroked one rounded cheek with the back of her finger. "You're perfect. My little girl."

She brought her up to her shoulder and cuddled her against her, wrapping her in the blanket again, tears standing in her eyes. "She's real," Nancy whispered. "Oh..."

"She is," Ned said softly.

Nancy looked down at the blanket she was holding around her daughter, then smiled at Edith. "Thank you," she said softly. "It's very warm."

Edith beamed. "I'm glad you like it."

Her father and Edith were clearly completely charmed by their granddaughter. They cuddled her and held her, speaking softly to her, and more than once Nancy caught them taking holovids. Ilara was fascinated by her, too. Nancy saw Ned watching just as closely as Nancy was, making sure that when Sehra was held, her head was supported and she was safe.

"It was pretty scary for a little while," George told her honestly, when they had a chance to talk. "I wasn't looking forward to breaking in a new CO in the short term."

"Oh, come on. Surely you're having more fun without me." Nancy gave her a grin.

"Never," George swore. "Just don't frighten me like that again, all right?"

"That's right," Bess put in. "The three of us need to go on another adventure soon."

George rolled her eyes. "Our investigations aren't 'adventures.' They're very important and occasionally dangerous, and we're trying to find the truth..."

"And that sounds _exactly_ like an adventure to me," Bess returned with a grin.

George was just opening her mouth to reply when Ilara tugged at her shirt. "Aunt George?"

George turned, her mouth a round o of shock, to stare at Bess.

"What? That's who you are. Aunt George." Bess grinned again.

Nancy couldn't help but chuckle. "Well, this certainly feels familiar," she said with a smile.

Nancy felt tired easily, though, and she assured her visitors that she would still be there in the morning, that they were welcome to go get some rest while she did. Her father joked that he and Edith would love to watch Sehra for the night, and Edith swatted at his shoulder.

Bess came back over to her before she and Barin left, and took Nancy's hand. "You might need to talk," she said. "Just let me know. I know it can be strange, after you've had the baby..."

Nancy nodded and gave her a smile. "Thanks. That means a lot to me."

Bess gave her a hug, then looked over at Ned. "I know you know this," she told Nancy, her voice low, "but he would have done anything to save you. I think a part of him still can't believe that you're both all right. He was so scared..."

Nancy looked at him, and he turned to look back at her, their daughter in his arms. "I understand," she murmured.

Once all the visitors had left, an orderly arrived to take Nancy for some further tests. According to the physician monitoring them, she was making excellent progress. She asked how much longer she would need to stay in the hospital, and the Vulcan doctor told her that her stay would probably be two more days. Sehra had reached acceptable benchmarks for her group, and would require no additional treatment, other than a vitamin supplement to augment Nancy's breast milk. Nancy was relieved when the physician said she wouldn't experience nearly the same effects as she had with the hormone therapy.

She was wheeled back to her room, and Ned sat in the large upholstered chair, Sehra cradled to his chest. His lips were brushing her forehead. Nancy smiled at him. His relationship with her was still subject to some prejudice, but his love for his daughter was apparently entirely understood and unquestioned.

Sehra looked so much like her father. Nancy saw her own eyes and nose in her daughter's face, though.

A human physician came in with their group and helped teach Nancy how to nurse Sehra. Nancy couldn't believe how hungry their daughter was. By the time she had her fill, her lashes were drifting down.

Ned took her and burped her, then returned her to her incubator to sleep. He rolled it over so it would be close to the bed, then sat down beside Nancy.

He touched her cheek, and Nancy cupped her hand over his. _I am so glad to see you awake, tal-kam,_ he told her. _I missed you so much._

_I'm so glad I was able to meet her. For a while I thought I never would._

He looked into her eyes. _Love... I never want to endure anything like that again. Please, if you wish us to have another child... please say we can consider a surrogate._

_We just had the one._ She gave him a small smile. _We have the time to think about it._

_At least say you'll consider it._

Nancy took a long breath, then nodded. _I'll consider it._

He moved down and they gazed at each other, his hand still on her cheek. "I love you," he said softly.

Nancy's eyes filled with tears again. "I love you," she whispered. "She's ours, Ned. She's ours. You won't be alone..."

He shook his head. "That isn't how it works," he said quietly. "The pain I would feel from losing you... the pain I will feel..."

She moved toward him, kissing him. "And I will love you better now," she whispered. "Always, Ned."

He returned her kiss. "Always."


End file.
